Ciao
by Olive Hue
Summary: Finch goes out of his way to help Maya with one of her articles. Why is he being so thoughtful? What could he be scheming? More importantly, why does she care so much? Update: COMPLETE! FINALLY!
1. Thursday, 11:51 PM

A/N: This oughta be interesting. Just a little heads-up before you start reading: I have NEVER written a fanfic based on a sitcom. Therefore by this line of reasoning, this is my first fanfic based on my FAVORITE sitcom, 'Just Shoot Me'. But I love David Spade, and I love his character on the show, and I would feel like a hypocrite if I told everyone that Mr. Spade was my favorite actor, and then just sat on my hands instead of writing a little fanfic to prove it. So! Here goes nothing, and just in case I never get to meet You-Know-Who(which is VERY likely), I just wish he knew that he is my role model, that I owe a lot to him, and that if it weren't for his special brand of dry wit, I would still be a depressed, picked-on teenager who never stood up for herself. And never knew how fun humor could be when used as a weapon, heh heh.  
  
Anyway. Thanks, man.  
  
Ciao  
  
A 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction  
  
by Wakizashi  
  
Thursday, 11:51 P.M.  
  
"Yo Mai-YAH, it's Finch. Uh, despite what your dad, and yes, *I* told you about my grandmother, she's not quite the senile old bat she appears to be, and is actually pretty sharp. Very 'compos mentis', if you will? So yeeeaahh, I was thinking since you were writing that oh-so-inspiring article about women and the war, maybe we could drive up to her house this Saturday and interview her. She was quite the Florence Nightingale in her day. If not, your loss. Give me a call; I sincerely hope you love me enough to remember my number. Ciao."  
  
The answering machine beeped once, and Maya Gallo pressed the 'erase' button with a dry chuckle. It was just like Finch to feign disinterest in one of her articles-- at least, at the office-- and then call her up and surreptitiously offer help. Either that, or he was too embarrassed to make public knowledge the fact that he hung out with his grandmother so much. In any case, it was something she had come to expect.  
  
Maya checked the wall clock and, picking up her cordless phone, dialed a number from memory. She heard three rings on the other end before a familiar sardonic voice said: "What happened?"  
  
"Hey, it's Maya."  
  
"I figured. Where've you been? I called three times."  
  
*Why did he care?* she wondered. "I was out with some friends," she replied, trying to remember why she had called in the first place. "I got your message."  
  
"Ah yes." She heard a snicker. "So, need my help, do you? Couldn't refuse me, could you? Desperate for--"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, wipe off that smug look I *know* you have," she interrupted, trying not to grin. "What makes you think I'll even take you up on your offer? You really think your grandmother's a prime candidate?"  
  
"Mm-hmm, definitely. She was one tough cookie, and not afraid to let everyone know. Bandaged her fair share of soldiers and whatnot. She has a few pretty disgusting amputation-related stories, if you're not too faint of heart."  
  
She nodded, forgetting briefly that he couldn't see her. "All right, sounds perfect."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"So what time do we leave?" she asked.  
  
He snorted. "There you go, all makin' plans, girl. I have to check my schedule, move some appointments around--"  
  
"Finch, what appointments? You're the one who suggested Saturday."  
  
Silence. Then: "Quiet, you. I'll pick you up at six-thirty."  
  
"Six-thirty?" She blinked. "Why so early?"  
  
"She lives up near Binghamton, don't you remember? Way up in the boondocks, too, as far away from civilization as possible, so it takes a while to get there. That, and she'll probably want to make us sandwiches for lunch. I don't know."  
  
"Okay, six-thirty," he said, smiling. "Night, Finch."  
  
"Ciao."  
  
Maya hung up, laughing and shaking her head. She had spoken with Finch's grandmother only once before, on the phone; she hadn't left the best impression on the elderly woman, either. *Oh well, she sounds sweet,* she thought as she headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. *Wonder why it doesn't run in the family.*  
  
She stopped, her toothbrush halfway to her mouth. No, she shouldn't say that. Out of all the Finches she had met, they all had that sarcastic quality to them, and Dennis was no exception. But Finch could be sweet... sometimes. On occasion. Mostly when something was in it for him. Finishing on her teeth and reaching for the face cleanser, she momentarily wondered why he had given up his time, of his own accord, to help her with her article. Surely he had better things to do than drive her up to his grandmother's house on a weekend.  
  
That last thought gave her pause. He could just as easily given Maya his grandmother's telephone number. She had no problem with interviewing her over the phone. In fact, driving to her house and back would only take up unnecessary time.  
  
Why *was* Finch helping her?  
  
Oddly disconcerted, she toweled her face dry and flicked off the light switch. Changing into her nightclothes, she decided she would just ask him tomorrow at work. Casually. Pull him aside and offhandedly make some remark about how thoughtful he was being. That would certainly get his attention. 'Finch' and 'thoughtful' somehow didn't fit in the same sentence.  
  
Setting her alarm, she pulled back the bed sheets with a sudden grin. She wondered how Elliott would react to the news: Maya Gallo and Dennis Finch spending the weekend together. She could almost picture the red hue on his cheeks. Some guys were just too predictable.  
  
The telephone rang, startling her. She reached across the bedside table and picked it up. "Hello?"  
  
"Me again."  
  
"Finch?" she frowned. "What is it?"  
  
"I forgot to tell you. When we go up to Grandma's, don't wear anything too, you know... revealing. She's one of those modest old biddies that aren't aware that women have any legs above the ankle."  
  
Maya was at a total loss. "Okay?" she managed to reply.  
  
"A weird request, I know. But anyway, I'll let you go. Sleep tight and all that."  
  
"Night, Finch."  
  
"Oh oh, one more thing!"  
  
She brought the handset back to her ear after almost replacing it. "Yeah?"  
  
"Are you wearing a bra?"  
  
She slammed the phone down hard, rolling her eyes.  
  
*Too* predictable.  
  
A/N: Face it, you knew that was coming. Or something equally derogatory. You know Finch! Mmm, all too well... I MEAN, HEY, how was my first chapter? Too expected? Too two-dimensional? I'm trying my best to keep Maya and Finch's voices in my head as I write, so it's easier to imagine them saying all this stuff. Are their characters satisfactory? I sincerely hope so, because I want them as in-character as I can get them. Leave a review telling me whether or not you like it so far, and if I should continue. If I get enough positive response, I continue! Whee!  
  
~Wakizashi  
  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	2. Friday, 6:00 AM

A/N: So, you liked the first chapter enough to endure a second? You brave people, you. Very well, if you're willing to read on, be my guest. I have little experience writing this kind of story. But I must admit, it's EXTREMELY fun writing Finch's character. He's just so sarcastic and devious. But his sense of humor is a little too like mine than is comfortable. My parents tell me that being not just funny, but "David Spade funny" isn't necessarily a good thing, but I would have to disagree. In fact, I deem it the highest praise possible. But anyway, thanks for your reviews for my last chapter, and I hope you like this next one. Ta!  
  
Ciao  
  
A 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction  
  
by Wakizashi  
  
Friday, 6:00 A.M.  
  
The alarm clock radio blared "The Rockafeller Skank", and Dennis Finch rolled out of bed, muttering a curse as he hit the floor with a dull thud. *If I have one more of these two-hour nights of sleep,* he reflected sourly, *I'm gonna go on a shooting rampage.* For the past four days-- or, to be more precise, since Maya Gallo had brought up that idea for her article at the meeting on Monday-- Finch had spent his nights staring blankly at either the television screen, the first page of a borrowed novel, or the monotonous white of his bedroom ceiling. Nothing short of a tranquilizer intended for large African mammals, in his opinion, would be sufficient for knocking him out.  
  
For reasons known only to him, apprehensions arose every time he thought of Maya and her stupid article he just *had* to express an interest for. Only the night before had he worked up the courage to suggest to her the notion of interviewing his grandmother, and even then he had had to write down in advance what he was going to say to her. He had, of course, completely blown it by freaking out when she failed to answer her phone. The most illogical reasons for her absence riddled his brain until he could barely restrain himself from calling Jack and asking him if he knew where his daughter was. *Pathetic, even for me,* he thought, running a forceful hand through his blond hair.  
  
Belatedly, he remembered Maya had mentioned something on Wednesday about getting together with some friends from college. Mentally kicking himself for being so panicky, he finally turned off the radio and dragged himself into the bathroom for a shower.  
  
Cleansing process completed without incident, save an unfortunate mishap involving the shampoo and his left eye, Finch towelled himself dry, shaved, fussed with his hair, and threw on whatever clothes were not at the dry cleaners. Wishing irrationally for bacon and eggs, he settled for a bagel and a cup of coffee brewed the night before. Inevitably, his thoughts drifted to Maya. What was she eating for breakfast? Probably something healthy. As he leaned against the kitchen counter, he allowed himself a brief smile, wondering what eating breakfast with her as his wife would be like, before pulling himself reluctantly back to reality, and his own burnt excuse for a meal. He really needed to get a new toaster.  
  
"Crap," he said unnecessarily, looking at his watch. No more than five minutes of free time were left before he would be officially late for work. He pushed himself off the counter and grabbed his coat, which he had haphazardly thrown on the couch the evening before. Momentarily, he speculated with a pang of distress the many different ways Elliott could maim him if he ever found out how he felt about Maya-- or what Jack would do, for that matter. Most likely roll him up in an area rug and throw him off the Brooklyn Bridge. Finally he cleared his head with a shake and headed out the door.  
  
"Morning, Finch, I heard you and Maya are driving up to your grandmother's to interview her for that article. What's Elliott going to say?"  
  
*That's it,* he thought, closing his eyes. *I'm a Dennis Finchilada.*  
  
Instead of finding a nice broom closet to hide in, he stood his ground. "Nina," he said casually, trying to keep up the appearance of looking through his file cabinet, "what's the big deal? It's strictly business. Besides, what's he gonna do to me? Him and Maya are long since down the drain."  
  
"Good point." Nina Van Horn frowned, looking for all the world like she was actually thinking. "I suppose he won't be that angry. Well, anyway, Maya's in her office. She needs to talk to you. Says it's important."  
  
"Oh, she is *not* backing out now," he said under his breath, eliciting a strange look from Nina as he brushed by her on the way to Maya's office. He had been planning a day alone with her for practically an eternity, to tell her how he felt, and now that a perfect opportunity had arisen, he was not going to throw it away because of a little change in his plan. *I have waited far too long for this,* he thought, his eye twitching noticeably.  
  
He crossed the room and pushed open the glass door to Maya's office. "Gooood morning, Starshine," he said, grinning as he pulled the door shut behind him. "You had something you nee-- OHH my God, Nina, what did you give her?"  
  
"What? I didn't do anything!" was the confused response outside the door.  
  
Maya Gallo was slumped forward on the surface of her desk, fast asleep. Her long chestnut hair covered her face, stirring slightly as she exhaled. Finch took an uncertain step toward her and raised one of her limp arms. It hit the desk when he dropped it, and he passed a hand over his face. "If you didn't do anything," he retorted, "why is Maya lying comatose on top of her desk?" He groaned and shook her shoulder gently. "I'm just waiting for this to get worse."  
  
The door suddenly opened, and Elliott DiMauro walked in, a blueberry muffin in his hand. "Hey Finch."  
  
He looked up, eyes wide. "And there it is."  
  
"Maya, they didn't have any of those Australian toaster biscuits, but I got you this." Elliott stopped, muffin forgotten. "Oh jeez. Finch, she didn't take any of that cold medicine, did she?"  
  
Finch threw up his hands. "How should I know? When I came in here, she was like *that*."  
  
"She said she was coming down with something, and she brought this stuff... Ah. Here it is." He threw a white bottle to Finch, and he inspected the label closely.  
  
"'Side effects may include drowsiness, disorientation, loss of appetite--' Oh, this is just perfect." He collapsed in one of the chairs against the wall, drawing his knees up to his chest.  
  
Elliott frowned. "What's perfect?"  
  
"I'm surprised you haven't found out yet," he snapped, still rooted to the chair. One fair eyebrow raised, daring him to make something of it. "Maya and I are going to my grandma's house for the weekend."  
  
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air like a sudden presence.  
  
"Really," Elliott finally said. "What for?"  
  
"Oh, it's just uh... Maya had that, umm... article that she's gotta have done by... next week, yeah," he replied, silently berating himself for avoiding eye contact with the photographer. "She needed to find an older woman to interview about the war, so I suggested my grandmother."  
  
"Uh-huh." He sounded less than placated.  
  
At last Finch raised his eyes to meet his. "Wwwwhat?"  
  
"Oh nothing." Finch was definitely convinced that it was not "nothing" that was bothering him. "It's just that your grandmother lives upstate, doesn't she? Kind of a long way to drive."  
  
"Yeah, so?" He shrugged casually. "I haven't seen her in a while. It'll be like killing two birds with one stone."  
  
"Wait, wait, wait," he said, shaking his head. "I've never known you to do anything like this before. What's up?"  
  
Finch rose from the chair indignantly. "Nothing is 'up'," he protested, cringing inwardly at the sound of his own voice cracking. "Maya needed help with her article, and I offered it. Okay? Just being nice."  
  
"I'm sure." Elliott walked past him and opened the door, sticking his head out. "Hey everybody! Finch is being nice!"  
  
A cacophony of laughter issued from the office outside. Elliott closed the door again with a look of triumph, and Finch narrowed his eyes. "Complain all you want," he said, a smug smile forming on his lips, "but the poor ex-boyfriend has no say in what Maya does now. If she wants to spend the weekend with the Finch, there's nothing you can do to stop her." He glanced over at the unconscious form of the journalist. "Not even if she's... experiencing technical difficulties."  
  
"Fine. You know what? Go ahead. Spend a whole weekend with only each other as company. Only one of you will come back alive, and my money's on Maya." The photographer smiled with false sympathy. "She can't stand you."  
  
The breath suddenly caught in Finch's throat. For only a fraction of a second, his vision clouded, but an instant later all he felt was rage. "Get out," he whispered.  
  
"No need to get angry." Elliott's tone was deceptively innocent. "I'm only telling the truth."  
  
"I said get out."  
  
"All right, all right," he said, raising his hands beseechingly as he walked out. He took a bite of the muffin. "Have fun on your trip," he called on his way out.  
  
As soon as the door closed, Finch's thin, wiry form crumpled into the chair in front of Maya's desk, his head in his hands. He had expected Elliott to react negatively to the news. He had not, however, anticipated evoking such a cruel, biting remark from the photographer-- and so indifferently hurled at his defenses. It wasn't true. It couldn't be.  
  
But what if it was?  
  
A/N: Poor Finch! *sniff* I know, Elliott's not normally such a jerk, but he is in my story! It was necessary for the plot, and besides, he's not a jerk through the whole story. Just during his sudden bout of jealousy. ANYWAY, thanks for waiting for the next chapter to come up. You were so patient! I hope I'm not stretching Finch's character too far from his usual personality. Seems like I've made him a shade too touchy and emotional. Well, tell me what you thought, and if you want me to continue.  
  
Ooh ooh! Before I forget, go here and see what I drew! Do iiiit...  
  
http://www.mediaminer.org/fanart/view.php?id=83640  
  
And I'd be very VERY happy if you left a review, because I want to know what you think. All right, ciao!  
  
Wakizashi  
  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	3. Friday, 9:36 AM

A/N: Wow, I gots a lot of reviews for this story! I mean relatively. You like me, you really like me! *coughYEAHRIGHTcough* But, even if no one was that eager for more, I just couldn't resist continuing the story. I know, it's not incredibly funny now, but just wait. I'm planning all sorts of mayhem. Just trust me on this one, okay? It's not just some cheesy, sappy, romantic garbage. It's genuine, bona fide comedy. All right? After all, that's what 'Just Shoot Me' is: comedy. And I plan to stick to what works.  
  
By the way, did you check out that picture of Finch I drew? If you didn't, the URL is at the end of the last chapter. If you did, what the heck!? How come you didn't review? Come onnnn, I'll give you this shiny penny!  
  
  
  
Ciao  
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction  
by Wakizashi  
  
  
  
Friday, 9:36 A.M.  
  
  
Maya Gallo awoke to the sound of a fist hitting her desk with a jarring impact. Her head shot straight up, which promptly caused her to become slightly dizzy. As she blinked rapidly to dispel the fuzz, her eyes came into focus on the diminutive form of Finch, slumped in the chair in front of her. Unless her vision was still blurry, she swore that he looked depressed. Maya had seen Finch in almost every mood: mischievous, terrified, irritated, enraged, flirtatious(admittedly more often toward her than she'd care to think about)-- but never depressed. There had to be something serious going on if Dennis Finch was down in the dumps.  
  
She frowned. "Finch, are you okay?"  
  
To say that he jumped would have been an understatement. He gasped, flying at least ten inches out of the chair, knocking her stapler on the floor with his arm as he did so. "Maya!" he said with a high-pitched, nervous laugh. "What's up? Hey, you're awake, are you feeling any better? Elliott said you were sick."  
  
She stretched, her neck popping loudly. "Yeah, that's um... That's what I wanted to talk to you about," she said hesitantly. It was inexplicably sweet of Finch to offer to help her with her article, and if he was in a bad mood, she sure wasn't too eager to make it worse. But still, it had to be said. "Look, Finch," she began, choosing her words carefully. "I really appreciate you wanting to help me, but--"  
  
"Gah, I knew it, there's a 'but'!" he interjected, throwing his hands up in the air.  
  
"*But*," she continued, his bad mood forgotten for the moment as she refused to be diverted, "I don't think I'll be able to make the trip to your grandmother's house. I was awake all last night with a fever, and I barely even made it into work today. This medicine is making me all lightheaded, I can't even think straight, and I think I'm just going to go home early." She took a deep breath, ignoring his sour expression. "I'm really sorry, but there's nothing I can do about it."  
  
Finch sighed and stood up, circumnavigating her desk until he stopped next to her chair. "Maya, Maya, Maya," he said sadly, patting her head. "You're forgetting you have a deadline. If you don't come with me tomorrow, you're never going to find someone else to interview on time." Maya opened her mouth to argue, but he rested his fingers on her lips to silence her. "So-- eww." He remembered her illness and jerked his hand away. "So this is your only chance, am I right?"  
  
She had to admit, the only possibility of getting an interview rested on Finch's grandmother. "Okay, you're right," she said wearily. "But are you really sure you want to spend a whole weekend with me like this? My nose is stuffed up. I'm all congested, do you hear that?"  
  
He grinned and shook his head. "Doh, Baya, it's dot thad bad."  
  
"Shut up!" She punched him weakly in the arm, and he drew back in simulated pain.  
  
"Whoa there, Iron Maya, take it easy! But seriously, it's all in your head. You don't sound any different. Still," he added, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead, "you don't look too good, and I don't know if I like the idea of you driving home whacked out on those pills." He frowned in thought. "Tell you what. Get your coat, and I'll take you home."  
  
Maya straightened to full attention. "No, Finch, you don't have to--"  
  
"Up-up-up-up, I insist. We wouldn't want you nodding off at the wheel and driving into the side of a Burger King. Now come on, on your feet."  
  
She rose shakily and, with Finch's help, pulled on her coat. She paused, staring off into space, and wondered if she was forgetting anything. It came to her suddenly. "What about my car?" she blurted.  
  
"Give me the keys. I'll drive it." The keys were surrendered, and he gave her a light thump on the back. "You go down to the garage, and I'll meet you there. I'm gonna go tell Jack you're leaving early."  
  
Nodding blearily, she watched his blond head disappear out the door. She merely stood for a while, lost in a fuzziness that had nothing to do with the cold medicine. Ever since last night, Finch had begun to show a thoughtfulness that had virtually no roots at that devious, self-centered core of his. Maya wasn't entirely sure whether to think it was her unsteady condition that was warping her perception, or if Finch was really turning over a new leaf. However, it was much safer to assume he was up to something.  
  
Finally she stumbled her way out of her office and somehow made it onto the elevator. Pushing the button for the parking garage, she leaned back against the wall of the elevator car and closed her eyes.  
  
  
  
"Yoo-hoo! Maya, you down here?"  
  
Maya rose up from where she was sitting against her car and waved her arm half-heartedly. "Yeah, I'm over here," she replied, brushing off her skirt. Finch weaved his way between the other cars and, tripping over an empty carton of Chinese food, came to join her.  
  
"By the way, you forgot these," he said, placing the container of medicine in one hand and a bottle of juice in the other.  
  
She eyed the latter for a moment. "Juice?"  
  
"Mm-hmm." He unlocked the passenger door and opened it for her. As she climbed inside, he went around the car and got in behind the wheel. "I looked in the fridge for some orange juice, but we only had that starfruit-kiwi-strawberry crap. I tell you, Blush is great at having exactly what you don't want." He glanced at her and started the engine, backing out of the parking space. "Oh well, juice is juice. Drink up. The more liquids the better when you're sick."  
  
*The last person who told me that was my mother,* Maya reflected absently as Finch pulled out of the garage and onto the street. As much as she would have enjoyed the ride home in a comfortable silence, her chauffeur apparently thought it easier to make idle chat the entire way to her apartment.  
  
"So Jack asks me to go down and pick up Hannah at her ballet practice dealie, right?" he said, accelerating as the light at the intersection turned green. Maya observed distractedly how surprisingly capable a driver he was. "Ugh, these tourist morons. Learn to drive, you freakin'-- Wait, what was I saying? Right, so I go to the dance studio to get Hannah, and the instructor(she's really hot, by the way, but I doubt you care) is all, 'I'm sorry, but I was told her father, Mr. Gallo, would be here.' The fact that Hannah's claiming she knows me isn't important, I guess. So all these little half-pints in leotards are accusing me of being a kidnapper, and they're making so much racket that the self-defense class next door hears them! I swear, those women may have looked like English teachers, but it was like they could smell fear. I had sore ribs for a week."  
  
Maya snorted with laughter, nearly spraying juice all over the dashboard. He looked over at her and smiled, his blue eyes gleaming with that sinister cheerfulness that was so undeniably Finch. Whatever had been wrong with him in her office earlier, he had recovered from it. She was glad.  
  
"Keep it in the mouth, dearie," he said, laughing along with her. "That reminds me, if you mess up the interior of my car tomorrow, you're cleaning it up, and I don't care if you're so sick that you're bleeding out your ears."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "How caring of you."  
  
"Certainly."  
  
Before she was even aware of how close they were to her home, Finch pulled up in front of her stoop and scrambled around the car to help her out. She accepted the keys from his hand, and declined the offer to walk her to her apartment door. She stopped abruptly when she took in his lack of a ride back to the office. "Finch, how are you going to get back to work?"  
  
"No problem, I'll take a cab." He walked out to the edge of the sidewalk and raised his arm. "Later, Maya! Feel better and all that!"  
  
She bit her lip, lingering at the foot of the steps. "Wait!" she finally called, racing down the walkway to catch him. A taxi had halted in front of him, but he turned around and looked at her expectantly. "I never thanked you for doing this... For taking me home, for helping me with my article. I really owe you."  
  
He smiled slightly. "It's seriously no big deal. But you're welcome anyway."  
  
On an impulse, she stepped forward and hugged him gratefully. He rested his hands on her back, repositioning them awkwardly as though he wasn't sure what to do with them. When she pulled away, he cleared his throat and grinned that rakish grin of his. "Ooh, Ma-YAH, gettin' a little handsy, are we?" he said, wiggling his eyebrows. She sighed wearily, and he patted her back. "Kidding. I'm kidding. But anyway, before my ride abandons me, I'll see you bright and early tomorrow, okay?" She nodded, and he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Ciao!" he called as he climbed into the back of the cab.  
  
Watching the yellow car until it disappeared from sight, Maya stood on the sidewalk, stunned by that last thunderbolt. After a full three minutes of standing around blushing, she finally staggered up the steps, down the hallway, and to the door of her apartment. She shrugged out of her coat, turned on the faucet of her bathtub, threw her clothes on the bathroom floor, and climbed in. She lay there for a while, breathing the steam, then began to scrub herself clean. When the time came, however, to wash her face, she found she did not want to do so. Instead, her hand raised of its own accord and rested lightly on her cheek.  
  
This was an unexpected development.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Whooo, now we's gettin' somewhere, aren't we? Now this chapter was considerably more fun to write than the first two. I particularly enjoyed Finch's little anecdote about getting waled on by a bunch of self-defense students. But my personal favorite part of the chapter was da kiss. Wretchedly adorable, no? Just like Finch, hahah... Never mind. I'm strange. Anyway, if you like, leave a review. If you don't like, HOW COME? *bursts into tears* You know I'm sensitive! Ahem, but seriously, review if you'd like more. Actually, heh, just between you and me, I'm continuing whether you like it or not. But it'd be a nice gesture on your part to review anyway. Much obliged!  
  
Wakizashi  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	4. Friday, 4:16 PM

A/N: Whooooo, sorry about the delay. I was camping, I was! Anyway, thank you all for your reviews. I'm surprised at the number of them, considering how few people visit the 'Just Shoot Me' section of FF.net. We must gain more disciples! Spread the word! Although I must say, there's one story here that is worthy indeed of its sixty-something reviews, and that is 'Sneetches are Sneetches' by Sam I Am. I swear, anyone who has not read that yet MUST. It's written like an actual episode. The dialogue is so... REAL. Finch is written especially well. I could almost hear that bit about Nina being "three drinks away from *being* a carny" coming out of his mouth. And while you're at it, read 'Traffic Patterns' by Cloudburst2000. She's got a great sense of humor that lends to the story well. And she loves reviews! Heaven forbid I detract attention away from my *own* fanfic(just kidding, I'm not *that* conceited), but seriously, they're both fabulous stories.  
  
But I digress. On we go!  
  
  
  
Ciao  
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction  
by Wakizashi  
  
  
  
Friday, 4:16 P.M.  
  
  
  
"Dennis, there you are!" Jack Gallo waved his hand, beckoning Finch to enter. "Who is that guy again? The one who does the impression of Al Gore on Saturday Night Live?"  
  
Finch wrinkled his brow in confusion and sighed as he walked into his office. "Darrell Hammond?"  
  
"That's it!" Jack shook his head and chuckled with self-deprication. "He's always the one I forget."  
  
Sitting down on the couch, Finch simply watched Jack for a while. Jack Gallo, the man he had looked up to like a father for over ten years. The man who had saved him from that dead-end job at the movie theater. The man who had so freely forgiven Elliott for proposing to Maya and then backing down; something Finch would have lynched him for, if it had been up to him. And the man who had miraculously let Finch keep his job after doing the unthinkable: allowing himself to be seduced by his wife. Despite his idiosyncrasies, a great man indeed. If there was one thing he would *not* forgive Finch for, however, it would be hurting his daughter.  
  
*What am I getting myself into?* he thought to himself in astonishment.  
  
"Sooo, Dennis," prompted Jack, interrupting his inner monologue. "Nina told me about your little offer to help Maya with her article."  
  
Finch could almost hear the gunshots. "Uhh, yeah," he sniffed, shrugging nonchalantly. "My grandma seemed like a good choice for her interview. You've met her, Jack, her memory's sharp as a whip." *Nina's not going to make it out of the building alive,* he seethed, his fist closing around the couch's armrest.  
  
"Oh, I know, I know." Jack pushed his chair back from his desk and stood up, lighting a cigar out of habit. "It's just, well, you said Maya wasn't feeling well, and I was wondering if she's even up to going with you tomorrow." There was a neutralness to his voice that Finch found absolutely terrifying.  
  
Nevertheless, he remained calm. "It's true, she's a little under the weather at the moment." Under the weather, sick as a dog... Same diff. "But she's resting up now, and I'm sure she'll feel better in the morning. Ahah, besides, she can just sleep in the car on the way there." His apparent lack of concern for Maya's well-being usually worked on Jack, and he was hoping it would now.  
  
But alas!  
  
Taking a draw from his cigar, Jack expelled the smoke through his nostrils, looking to Finch like an irate dragon displeased by its prey's refusal to die. "Dennis," he said slowly, walking around his desk, "do you remember the first time Maya walked into the offices here at Blush?"  
  
*Vividly,* he thought, resisting the urge to bite his lip. "Sure I do," he replied, taking this new tack in the conversation for some kind of malicious trap. "I uh, I thought she was here with a group of models, and I told her she didn't stand a chance. Too short," he added, smiling nervously.  
  
"But you've thrown your share of casual flirts at her throughout the years, am I right?" Finch didn't the like way this was going. "And yet your interest in every model that walks through those elevator doors has the lifespan of a fruitfly, wouldn't you say?"  
  
As true as it was, Finch protested. "Not exac--"  
  
"Dennis, I know what you're trying to do here." Any notions of objecting dissolved at the sternness of Jack's voice. Finch willed himself to sink into the couch and disappear as Jack walked closer to him. "You show some kindness to Maya by helping her with her article. You have a nice weekend together, and then magically, she somehow ends up in your bed! Do you think I haven't seen the way you look at her? Do you think I'm stupid?"  
  
Finch seriously wondered if he could fit under the cushions. "No, Jack, you don't underst--"  
  
"First Allie, then my daughter?" Jack's voice was quiet, but fuelled with a rage Finch had seldom heard. "Who's next, Dennis? You want to have a go at Eve!?"  
  
If a battering ram had been sent flying into Finch's stomach, it couldn't possibly have hurt as much as that. "Now come on, Jack, you didn't mean that."  
  
"Didn't I?" He leaned forward, his cigar coming perilously close to scorching Finch's hair. "I'm letting you go on this trip with Maya, Dennis. And do you know why?"  
  
He shook his head weakly.  
  
"Because I want to see if you can ignore your sick desire to claim every Gallo woman you meet for two whole days." Suddenly he bonked Finch on the nose. "If you want to keep your job, my friend, you'll keep your busy little hands to yourself." He stepped back, letting a bewildered, broken Finch rise to his feet, and opened the office door for him. "Now get back to work."  
  
Avoiding his boss's gaze, Finch shuffled out the door, plowing heedlessly into one of the interns. Not even thinking to apologize, he continued past his co-worker's desks, around the kitchenette, and straight for the first empty office he could find.  
  
  
  
"Finch, what are you doing in here?"  
  
He felt a thin, manicured finger poke his shoulder, but he shifted onto his side, burying his face in the couch. The finger jabbed him more insistently. "Go away, Nina," he muttered, his voice muffled by the cushions.  
  
"Go away?" He heard the ex-model snort with laughter. "What are you talking about? This is my office! Now get off my couch."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry," Finch replied with only a trace of his normal sarcasm as he huddled further against the sofa. "I wasn't aware it was coin-operated. Is my time up?"  
  
"Hey, shut up! You didn't answer my question. What are you doing in here?"  
  
Finally he sat up straight in annoyance and faced Nina, who was holding a mug in her hand filled with something most definitely not coffee. He waited for her to stumble back in surprise to see his flushed cheeks and his bloodshot eyes. To his further irritation, she didn't.  
  
"Oh, great, you've been crying again?" She shook her head, her short brown hair defying gravity. "What is it this time? One of your ceramic cats broke? That female racquetball player at your health club finally got a restraining order? You know, Finch, if it's about what I said to Jennifer in shipping about you, you sure are being immature about it. For God's sake, everyone knows you don't have a tail!"  
  
"I hate you," he said simply.  
  
Her mouth dropped open. "I'm sorry, it was just a joke!"  
  
"It's not that," he snapped, getting to his feet-- and looking up-- to met her gaze. "Which, by the way, I didn't know about, thank you. Why did you have to tell Jack about my trip with Maya this weekend?"  
  
"Wha, I- he-- I, I don't know!" she spluttered, matching his angry tone. "It just came up in our conversation! Excuse *me* if it has nothing to do with cacti."  
  
*Which, incidentally, is exactly what I'd like to impale you with,* he thought, then wondered why he hadn't just said it out loud. "Well," he said, nodding in defeat as he slumped back into her couch, "thank you very much, Nina." He felt her eyes on him as he curled up on his side and stared blankly out the window.  
  
"Finch, what's the big deal?" she protested, sitting down on the arm of the sofa and crossing her legs. "When I told him, he didn't seem like he cared. In fact, he didn't say anything at all."  
  
His blue eyes still gazed, unfocussed, in the general direction of a pigeon on the windowsill. "That's because he was basking in the idea of barbecuing me and feeding me to the hobos that live outside my apartment building," he said blandly.  
  
Nina's brow wrinkled; something she rarely risked, lest her forehead be subjected to any permanent damage. "What does that mean?"  
  
"Jack knows," he wailed, stretching out his hands plaintively. "He knows *everything*! The man doesn't know how a set the time on a VCR, but he figures *this* out!"  
  
"Slow down, little one." Nina petted his flaxen head as he tried to stop hyperventilating. "Maybe you should just explain to me what exactly Jack... 'knows'," she said, sweeping quotation marks in the air with her fingers.  
  
Finch took a deep breath. He supposed it didn't matter that Nina knew, seeing as how he was going to die anyway. "He knows that I l-- that I have a thing for Maya," he said, cursing himself for that near-derailment. Studying Nina's dumbfounded expression, he took it that it was news to her. "And now he thinks that it's just some bizarre infatuation with Gallo women that I have, and that I have this sick *need* to have her."  
  
Nina nodded slowly, taking this all in. "Don't you?"  
  
"No!" He sat up in frustration, nearly knocking the woman off her perch on the armrest. "I really do have feelings for Maya, and I just wanted to spend some time with her, away from the office, so she could finally see that I'm not the jerkoff I act like in front of everybody, and boy am I talking loud!"  
  
The door swung slowly open, and Elliott stood in the doorway, not looking happy in the least.  
  
Finch stood up numbly, moving past Nina and wondering if he could make a break for the elevators. Instead, he opted for a smooth way out. "Invoices?" he heard himself say. "Yes, I forgot about the invoices. They need to be taken care of. Excuse me, Elliott. Elliott DiMauro. Goodbye, Nina." He walked calmly around the photographer, whose face was livid, and made his way down the hall and into the copy room. Once inside, he shut the door and leaned against it, sinking to the floor. As he drew his knees up to his chest, he wondered if it would be easier just to turn in his resignation and get it over with.  
  
*Maya Gallo,* he thought, resting his chin on his folded arms, *You better be worth all this.*  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: I am so mean to Finch, aren't I!? I don't intend to be, but it's the wa the story goes! I'm sorry! My poor Finch. Ahem, aaaanyway, I apologize again about the delay. Cloudburst, now you can sleep easy tonight. Yay! And to those of you who have been waiting for the story to pick up, namely all of you, Finch and Maya are finally leaving on their trip in the next chapter! Duh nuh nuh, ROAD TRIP! Trip, trip, trip... *voice echoes* So yeah, leave your reviews, for I will be ever so happy, and expect the next chapter sooner than this one came. Ciao!  
  
Wakizashi  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	5. Saturday, 7:24 AM

A/N: Ha! Told you all you wouldn't have to wait so long for the next chapter! Thanks for the reviews, everyone. You're an inspiration to our entire 'Just Shoot Me' fanfic section! Yes, as Cloudburst2000 has pointed out to me, my story has taken a rather bleak turn. Everyone's against Finch! *sniffle sniffle* I am aware that this fanfiction has a very dark humor running through it. Nevertheless, I chose to put it under the 'humor' category instead of 'angst'. That's right, I prefer black humor over no humor at all. And plus, well, no one would read it if it were listed otherwise. So anyway, enjoy the next chapter! I guarantee it won't be as depressing!  
  
  
  
Ciao  
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction  
by Wakizashi  
  
  
  
Saturday, 7:24 A.M.  
  
  
  
They hadn't even gone an hour into their road trip, and Maya already wanted to stuff Finch in the glove compartment. She was relatively certain he would fit, too.  
  
She was in a bad mood from having been rousted from her warm apartment while the sky was still dark, and Finch had been taciturn and unresponsive from the moment he showed up on her doorstep; something she had rarely had the misfortune of witnessing. For the most part, when something wasn't going his way, Finch responded to it with his usual lightning-fast wit and cutting sarcasm, but this day was different. One-word responses were all she could seem to get from him. At first it had worried her, but now it simply annoyed her.  
  
  
  
"Maya, we're six minutes behind schedule! Now get your lazy butt out of the shower before I have to come in after you! Do you really want that?"  
  
*Like I want a piano dropped on my head,* she thought irritably as she dried herself off and twisted her long brown hair into a clasp. Finch had been barking orders at her the entire time from her living room couch, where he had made himself quite at home. "Maya, you better have everything packed. I don't want to have to stop at K-mart so you can buy pantyhose." Or "Maya, bring your cold medicine. If I catch whatever you've got, I'm stealing all your sick days." She swore that if she heard another "Maya" in that biting voice, she would lock the little mosquito out on the fire escape and crawl back in bed.  
  
Pulling on a pair of black pinstripe pants and a crisp white blouse, she literally flung her makeup on her face and opened the bathroom door. Finch stood up, raising an eyebrow, and grabbed her suitcase off the floor. "You ready?"  
  
"Yeah, I just need to get my purse," she replied, retrieving it from her bedroom. She turned around to close the door behind her.  
  
"Hmm. Nice ass."  
  
She whipped around to face him. "*What* did you say!?"  
  
"I said 'nice pants', what's the matter with you? Jeez." Seeing that Maya was not convinced in the least, he shrugged and walked over to her closet to get her coat. He offered it to her, and she snatched it out of his hands. As she pulled it on and crammed her feet into a pair of polished black loafers, she grabbed a cup of yogurt and a spoon.  
  
"Okay. *Now* I'm ready."  
  
Finch herded her out the apartment, apparently in too much of a hurry to bother hanging around and waiting for Maya to deadbolt the door as she went. She made a face at the back of his shaggy blond head and followed him down the dark stairwell. After nearly killing herself at least twelve times, she caught up with him in the street next to his car, where he had put an admirable sum of fifteen cents into the parking meter upon his arrival. He had dumped her suitcase gracelessly on the sidewalk, allowing her the privilege of loading it into the battered station wagon.  
  
Maya had glimped Finch's car numerous times in the dim parking garage at Blush headquarters, but until now had never seen it in the increasing dawn light, in all its junkyard glory. Painted a lack-luster shade of mustard yellow and beautified with wood panelling, its ghetto quality would be improved solely by a strip of red fringe adorning the windshield or a dancing hula girl on the dash.  
  
On the plus side, the seats were broken-in and therefore implausibly comfortable, and Finch had installed a fabulous sound system to the point of almost being ridiculous.  
  
Loading her bags into the trunk and closing it with a jarring effect on the car's entire frame, Maya climbed into the passenger side and fished a tissue out of her coat pocket to wipe her nose. As Finch turned the key and the metal heap sputtered to life, she took one long last look at her apartment building, wondering -- not for the first time -- why she had agreed, if she was this sick, on going on this absurd expedition in the first place.  
  
But, for the sake of her friendship with her travelling companion, she chose not to voice any of her displeasure. Despite their disagreements, Maya was fond of Finch, and God only knew what an argument out on the road would lead to, especially with him in his current mood. She was not too eager to be shoved out of the car on a deserted freeway.  
  
Thus, in an effort to cheer her sullen friend up, she decided to make casual conversation.  
  
"So Finch," she prompted, twisting in the impossibly yielding leather to face him better as he changed lanes. "How are you this morning?"  
  
"Fine," he replied, his eyes glued to the windshield.  
  
*Don't look 'fine' to me,* she thought, frowning. "Anything interesting happen at work after I left?" she tried.  
  
One eyebrow raised; a half-assed version of a shrug. "Nuh-uh."  
  
Maya had to wonder, despite Finch's fully convincing response, what had indeed happened to him to make him so uncommunicative. For every one clever quip the average person had in his arsenal, Dennis Finch had eighteen thousand. To see him making no use of his rare talent was simply unnatural.  
  
As she peeled the lid off her yogurt, she made one more attempt at inciting speech from Mr. Talkative. "So, Dad called me last night about the meeting I missed," she said. "He told me about that idea Nina had to do an article on women professors and their affairs with their college students. Don't you think that's just a little too risky?"  
  
"Sure," he said shortly, braking for a reckless pedestrian.  
  
That was it; time to pry. "Finch, is anything wrong? You're being extremely quiet, and it's starting to scare me." She smiled slightly to let him know she was joking.  
  
Evidently Finch did not acknowledge her light humor. "There's nothing wrong," he said flatly, casting a fleeting glance at her. "What, do you think I'm only being myself when my mouth is flapping or something?"  
  
Maya nearly choked on her yogurt. "What? Of course not! Finch!" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did Finch really believe that was what she thought of him? Studying his set features, she realized it was true. "You've been kind of down ever since we were at the apartment, that's all. I was just worried about you."   
  
"Please, Maya. Spare me your pity." Finch snorted disdainfully, shooting her an unpleasant smirk. She literally recoiled from the force of it. "Unless your illness has spread to your ears, I'm pretty sure you heard me the first time when I said that nothing is wrong. You got it?"  
  
"Yeah, I got it," she muttered, sinking back into the seat. "Sorry for caring."  
  
  
  
So here she sat, in the passenger seat of Finch's Ford Gutless Wonder with the souped-up radio on, listening to a song by The Police that she'd heard about five million times and staring out at the endless highway, if only to avoid the alternative, which was staring at Finch.  
  
She admitted it; she missed the Finch of yesterday. The Finch who had driven her home when she had felt particularly under par. The Finch who had given her juice simply because he had wanted her to feel better. The Finch who had made her laugh, not because he was so good at it, but because he knew she needed it.  
  
The Finch who had kissed her.  
  
Something about that innocent goodbye peck on the cheek had had an unforeseen effect on her, and she had no idea why. If it had been Elliott, it would have been expected; they had already gone out, after all. If it had been Kevin the mail guy, she would have simply punched him in the stomach and run away screaming. But Finch was most emphatically neither of the two. Before Thursday night when he had called to offer help on her article, he had only occasionally given evidence that he cared about her; although she knew he did. This sudden flood of affection, however, had caught her off guard, and now she was wondering where in Heaven's name it had gone.  
  
Unable to bear trying to look interested in the long stretch of road, Maya finally risked a slight turn of her head to look at Finch. His blue eyes were fixed directly in front of him, and his face wore a look of eternal disinterest. Maya was starting to get the feeling he didn't want to be there-- that he was only doing this out of obligation. He took one hand off the steering wheel to push a stray tendril of blond hair behind his ear, and back to the statue he went. He gave no indication that he was aware of her gaze.  
  
As much as she would deny it if anyone asked her, she thought Finch was awfully cute. "Cute" being a word she would never use to describe anyone else, for it was reserved exclusively for him. Yes, he was only five feet seven inches, and she could probably lift him if she tried, but it only added to his "cuteness". And yes, she had hated his wispy blond hair at first, but she had grown used to it. In truth, she believed he was the only person who could pull off that hairstyle, and she couldn't imagine it any other way. "Cute" was simply the only word fitting enough.  
  
She sighed in defeat, wishing she could have her friend back. To her surprise, she heard an answering sigh.  
  
Turning again in her seat, she saw Finch shake his head. "I'm sorry, Maya. I've been a complete jackass all morning. I'm not mad at you, it's just..." He suddenly laughed at his own lack for words. "It's all me. Don't worry about it."  
  
Maya had to fight back the urge to reach over and hug him, sending them off the road into the ditch. Instead, she just grinned at him. "It's okay, Finch. Everyone has bad days. I'm just sorry you have to be doing *this* today. Trust me, if I knew you didn't want to go, I would've--"  
  
"No, no, no," he interrupted quickly. "That's not it. I'm here because I *wanted* to get away from the city, I *wanted* to spend time with you. Little Maya, my bestest buddy," he declared, removing one hand from the wheel and squeezing her knee. She laughed and slapped his hand away, and he smiled innocently as he reached up behind the visor and pulled out a cd case. "Now let's just forget the whole unpleasantness earlier," he suggested as he extracted a cd, inserted it in the car stereo, and cranked the volume up obscenely high. Maya braced herself for the bombshell.  
  
Daft Punk came blaring out of the speakers, and the seats shook from the force of the woofers. Maya was fully convinced that the music could be heard in Romania. She looked up at the rear view mirror to see that it was vibrating madly. The bass made her seat feel like one of those massage chairs at the Sharper Image, and she couldn't help but laugh when she noticed Finch doing the "robot" in his seat.  
  
*Oh, God, he's back,* she thought, grinning wildly.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: I could *so* see Finch doing that. Man, I'd give anything to be friends with him. Just for the record, I have no idea what his car looks like. Does he even have one? He must. Oh well, whatever. I figure, as long as it runs, and has a killer stereo, he's satisfied. So what'd you think? I know what you're thinking: "Finally, this retarded story is going somewhere!" Yeah, I know. I take forever with these chapters. Cloudburst2000 can attest to that. (How can she publish so dang fast? It's bloody incredible!) Well, sorry I'm such a lethargic writer. But yay, at least I'm serious about finishing it! I really can't stand it when people start stories and then give up after the first chapter. Some of them have so much potential! Rest assured, I'm not one of them, and though my chapters may take a while to get posted, you can count on them to show up eventually. That being said, leave a review, because you're so nice! Thanks everybody, for your support!  
  
Wakizashi  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	6. Saturday, 8:48 AM

A/N: Wow, I got an inspiring two reviews for my last chapter. *sniffle sniffle* What happened? Oh well, it might be due to the fact that Fanfiction.net shut down for a while to update... stuff. Anyway, I thought I'd start on my next chapter, seeing as how there's nothing else to do. You get used to that sort of thing when you live in Oregon.  
  
Oh, and I just realized something alarming: I haven't even put a disclaimer in my story. Steven Levitan could 'Just Sue Me' if he wanted to! Forgive my absent-mindedness, if you will. So. Disclaimer: I do not own 'Just Shoot Me' or any of its elements or characters(or Finch, unfortunately). So if anyone from NBC asks, leave my name out of your conversation.  
  
  
  
Ciao  
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction  
by Wakizashi  
  
  
  
Saturday, 8:48 A.M.  
  
  
  
Dennis Finch laughed. "Hey Maya. You know what's a really weird word?"  
  
"I don't know," she replied, smiling that smile of hers with the little gap between her two front teeth that made her so unique. "Why don't you tell me?"  
  
"Heretofore." Her smile widened, though one dark eyebrow shot up. "I mean, who uses that word? I've never heard any normal person, heretofore, use this word outside a courtroom hearing."  
  
Maya shook her head, laughing. "What made you think of that?"  
  
"No idea. But you know what I mean?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess so," she said, turning down the volume on the cd player. Finch had to admit, it wasn't very easy to carry on a conversation, even a pointless one, when Shirley Manson was wailing in their ears about being happy when it rains. Maya leaned back in her seat and stretched. "How about 'inasmuch'?"  
  
He nodded, grinning. "There's a good one. Or 'whosoever'."  
  
Laughing again, Maya sat up straight and put on a serious face. "Inasmuch as the word 'heretofore' is never used by the average person, whosoever uses it shall henceforward be known as an idiot."  
  
"Brilliant!" declared Finch, breaking down in yet another fit of laughter with her. "See, that's why you're the articles editor and I'm the boss's trained monkey."  
  
Maya leaned back once again and crossed her legs, smiling arrogantly. Finch was so grateful she wasn't irritated at him anymore. He had to admit, it was his fault to begin with; if he hadn't been so brusque with her, she wouldn't have gotten angry at him. In truth, Finch had been so crushed by Jack's words the day before that he almost could not bear the sight of Maya, and when the time came to pick her up, he found the only way to respond to her was with scorn. But it was not her fault that he had been forbidden to pursue a relationship with her. She didn't deserve such harsh treatment.  
  
Finch now knew that his feelings for Maya could never be revealed to her, and that all hopes of dating her had been dissolved before his eyes. The only thing he had left was her friendship, and he was not going to lose that.  
  
"You know," she suddenly said, bringing him out of his thoughts, "I could never do this with Elliott."  
  
He frowned. "Do what?"  
  
"Goof off." She folded her arms over her chest. "I could never be a total nerd when I was around Elliott, because I knew he would make fun of me or think I was childish. But when I'm with you, I can just be myself, because I know--"  
  
"You know I'm an even bigger nerd than you are?" he finished, grinning at her.  
  
She smiled back, rolling her eyes. "Not exactly, but something like that."  
  
"Well," he continued, "I figure if you can't be yourself around someone, how can you expect to have a relationship with them?"  
  
Maya nodded thoughtfully, and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. *Bonding with Maya,* he thought regretfully, trying to keep his eyes on the road in front of him. *Too bad it won't do me any good.* Taking an enormous risk, he glanced back at her and shrugged. "I'm not sure what it's worth, coming from a guy like me, but... Elliott never deserved you."  
  
She sat still for a while, refusing to break eye contact with him. Finch was beginning to think that was probably the most idiotic thing he could have said, and was wondering how long he could keep driving without plowing into an oncoming car or into the guardrail, when she finally spoke.  
  
"You really think so?"  
  
"Uh... yeah." He quickly locked his eyes onto the road, trying vainly to make his voice sound casual, laid-back, slightly indifferent, as if she had been the one to start the whole conversation. "I mean, the guy's so terrified of commitment that he sweats blood at the sound of wedding bells. Sure, he did love you, that was obvious. But for him to propose to you and then have an anxiety attack... I just couldn't believe him. You're so much better than that, and you didn't deserve it. No one does."  
  
*Good God, I've done it now.*  
  
He stole a fleeting glance at her, and to his infinite surprise, she was smiling. "Wow, Finch," she said, her brown eyes filled with astonishment. "You never told me that was how you felt."  
  
He gave her a weak grin. "Yeah, but you know me," he heard himself saying. "I have a hard time expressing my feelings in words." He felt like pulling the tape out of a cassette and strangling himself with it. Why did he only say what he felt in front of Maya, of all people!?  
  
Suddenly he felt her hand on his shoulder, and his breath caught in his throat. He felt his head turn slowly toward her, and as always, he was struck dumb by the amount of compassion that shone in her lovely dark eyes. Momentarily stunned, Finch thought it typical that it was only after he had been so cruelly denied a chance at ever winning Maya that he was beginning to become close with her. The irony was definitely not lost on him. Life truly sucked sometimes.  
  
As he tried to gain control of the blush that was creeping up his neck, Maya smiled again. "Well, I'm glad you feel you can speak your mind when you're with me. It's more than Elliott ever did."  
  
Finch opened his mouth to respond, most likely with a string of incoherent nonsense, when the sound of the engine struggling caught his attention. His eyes shot to the console, and his brow furrowed. "Oh, fantastic," he muttered.  
  
"What?" asked Maya, alarmed.  
  
"The engine's running hot," he replied, twisting the wheel and pulling onto the shoulder. "And I don't think that's the only problem." As the car lurched to a halt, he hit the hood release button and threw open the door. He heard the passenger door slam shut, and Maya joined him outside as he lifted the hood of his rolling garbage can. What he found made him want to scream.  
  
Obviously aware of the murderous glint in his eyes, Maya asked, "What's wrong? What is it?"  
  
"The transmission is what's wrong," he said, scowling. "This'll be four times that I've had to get it fixed now. I swear, one day I'm just going to blow up this damn wreck and collect the insurance money. Of course, I'd have to rip out the stereo first." He pulled his cell phone out of the deep pocket of his khakis and sighed, leaning against the steel deathtrap that was his only means of transportation. "You might as well get back in the car. It'll be a while before the tow truck gets here."  
  
  
  
  
Instead of waiting in the station wagon, Maya had chosen to stay outside in the brisk autumn morning with Finch as he fought the impending nervous breakdown that was always eager to accompany him on a doomed outing such as this. She blew her nose frequently, and Finch had been worried that she would become sicker if she sat on the cold asphalt road much longer. But she had refused to leave him, and he was secretly thankful that she had stayed. He truly believed that something would have snapped in him, and he would have started kicking additional dents into the car or screaming at the sky if she had not been there as a soothing force.  
  
And when the tow truck finally arrived an hour and a half later(apparently the business had only one at their disposal at the moment), Maya had calmly retrieved her purse from the car and ushered Finch to the truck's cabin, although he would have much rather gotten into an argument with the driver as to what had taken him so long. Still, as he had closed his eyes in irritation, she had climbed into the truck beside him and squeezed his hand, and he was again grateful for her presence.  
  
So grateful, in fact, that he could almost excuse the driver's partiality to Dolly Parton music. Almost.  
  
  
  
  
The nearest town was Monticello, New York. Population: sixteen old people and a cow. Or at least, that's what it felt like to Finch, who had never felt so far away from... anything in his life. It was true; he was too accustomed to life in the big city, so any place that didn't have buildings whose tops scraped the stratosphere felt like a village on some desert island. Yes, he was a city slicker.  
  
Fortunately Monticello had among its meager collection of houses, gas stations, and thrift stores a small auto repair shop that had the audacity to make Finch and Maya sit another forty-five minutes in the waiting room watching 'The Partridge Family' on an ancient television set as the mechanics poked and puzzled over his car, assessing the damage. It took all the self-control Finch had to keep his fist from colliding with Danny Partridge's pixilated face.  
  
At last the repair shop's greasiest mechanic emerged from the garage to inform him that, indeed, it *was* the transmission. Finch's eye began to twitch as he was given the estimate on repairs.  
  
"You're kidding me, right?" he managed to sputter. "You want me to pay six hundred and seventy-five dollars!? That's more than that old rattletrap is even worth!"  
  
Maya rose out of the torn chair she was sitting in. "Finch, calm down..."  
  
"No, Maya, I think I've stayed reasonably calm through this whole nightmare, and besides, I have the right to be angry, don't I?" He waved the slip of paper which had the estimate typed on it in front of the mechanic's face, who was admittedly much larger than him. "This is literally highway robbery. Do you honestly expect me to pay this?"  
  
"Look, buddy, your car's in serious trouble. I can't make any guarantees, but that's how much the repairs are gonna cost, whether you agree with it or not." The mechanic clenched and unclenched his meaty fists, as if he was itching to swipe his little customer's wallet and throw him through the window, but Finch was too enraged to concentrate on his own well-being.  
  
In contrast, Maya remained serenely indifferent at the entire situation as she came forward and put a restraining hand on his arm. "Please, Finch. We have no other choice. Look, I don't approve of how much they're charging either, but there is no alternative."  
  
He closed his eyes and sighed. Stupid Maya, always made him cave.  
  
"Listen to your girlfriend, pal, and just let us do the repairs." Finch was briefly thrown off by the mechanic's assumption that he and Maya were... like *that*. "Get your stuff out of the car, and Frank will drive you to the Motel 6 down the road. We'll try to have it ready sometime tomorrow, but I can't make any guarantees."  
  
"That seems to be your motto around here," Finch muttered. "All right, Maya, you win." He put one hand on the small of her back and led her out the door, casting one last glare at the beefy greasemonkey as they walked into the garage to retrieve their baggage. He was almost certain that she had blushed at the mechanic's statement when he assumed they were a couple.  
  
But he couldn't make any guarantees.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: I'm pretty sure everyone was expecting Finch's car to break down. Come on, you read the description of that metal beast, you knew it was coming. Looks like the little trip to Grandma's is going to have to be delayed. Oh well, the whole breaking down and having to stay in Monticello thing is just leading up to some very important... stuff that's going to happen in the next chapter. Oh and, if any of my readers live in or have been to Monticello, New York and have found that I have protrayed the town incorrectly, well... It's just a story, folks. No one said it had to be accurate down to the last detail. Anyway, review please! Please?  
  
Wakizashi  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	7. Saturday, 1:14 PM

A/N: Wow, I got this chapter written fast! I scare myself. But yeah, this oughta be fun! Ahahah... that's right, everyone, brace yourselves. You're not gonna know what hit ya! Thanks go out to everyone who reviewed, especially my fellow JSM author Cloudburst2000, who posted her chapter the same time I posted mine! It was uncanny, let me tell you. I got goosebumps. Okay, not really, but it was warm at the time. And plus, I was too busy planning the events of the following chapter. Anyway, of course I don't own 'Just Shoot Me', and anyone who thinks that can go read the credits and see that my name isn't in them. So, without any further prattle, here's the next chapter. Enjoy... mwahahah...  
  
  
  
Ciao  
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction  
by Wakizashi  
  
  
  
Saturday, 1:14 P.M.  
  
  
  
"Hi! I'm Judy! How can I help you!?"  
  
Maya was a little startled by the receptionist's perkiness, and judging by the way Finch took an involuntary step backward from the lobby desk at Monticello's Motel 6 as soon as Judy opened her mouth, he hadn't been prepared for it either. He opened his mouth to reply, then shut it abruptly, glancing at Maya. Finally he held up a finger. "We'll be right with you."  
  
The receptionist stared at him, chewing her gum like a confused cow, as Finch grabbed Maya's arm and led her away from the desk. Maya knitted her brow at his odd behavior. "What's the problem?"  
  
"I uh, heh," he stammered, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. "See, the thing is... The repairs on the car are going to practically wipe out my bank account as it is, so I can really only afford... one motel room."  
  
"Oh," she replied, then allowed his statement to sink in. "...Ohhh."  
  
He stared down at the floor, suddenly extremely interested in his shoes. "So I mean, you can get another one if you really want, because I understand if you're all big on privacy--"  
  
"No, no, it doesn't bother me," she found herself blurting. "There's no sense in spending extra money for no good reason. It's not a big deal anyway."  
  
"Yeah, totally," he said, nodding rapidly. "Okay! Well. Shall we?" He strode back to the desk, where Judy the sprightly receptionist was busily attempting to chew gum and twirl her hair around her finger at the same time. Maya stood behind him as he rang the service bell. "Judy, hey. Sorry to interrupt you there," he began as her eyes widened in surprise, "but we need a room for tonight, preferrably non-smoking, with two full-sized beds. Can you make it happen, Judy? I'm countin' on ya."  
  
"Of course! Certainly, sir!"  
  
Maya bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, while Judy typed rapidly at the computer with a frantic eagerness to please her customer. Though, considering how few cars were in the motel's parking lot, it seemed highly unlikey that there were no vacancies to their specifications.  
  
"All righty!" Judy chirped, her head bobbing happily. "We have a room available exactly as you requested, sir! Will you be paying with a credit card!? We accept Visa, MasterCard, American Exp--"  
  
"Visa," he interrupted, shoving the plastic card in her face to silence her high-pitched, F# voice.  
  
She plucked it from him with her manicured nails, and Maya had to wonder if they even had nail salons in Monticello. The receptionist slid the card through, listened for the beep, and nodded again. "All right! Thank you, Mr. Finch! Here is your key--" she passed a dull brass key over to him, "--and enjoy your stay here at Motel 6!"  
  
"Thank you very much, Judy!!" he replied in a chipper voice that bordered on manic as he picked up his bags and motioned for Maya to do the same. She complied, trying desperately not to burst into giggles, and followed him out of the lobby, leaving a flustered Judy blinking at their retreating backs.  
  
  
  
  
"Finch, I can't believe you did that," she finally exclaimed as she dropped her suitcase on the motel room's threadbare floor. As she flopped down on one of the two sagging mattresses, Finch looked at her innocently from where he was hanging up a pair of slacks in the closet.  
  
"'Did'? Did what?"  
  
"You know exactly what you did," she said, grinning. "Thank you very much, Judy!" she squeaked, her head cocking cluelessly to one side. Crossing her arms over her chest, she smirked. "You just can't help being a wiseass, can you?"  
  
"It's what I do best, after all." He tried hanging his coat on one of the flimsy coathangers, but he gave up when it buckled under the weight and tossed the coat in the corner. Sighing and muttering indiscernibly, he crossed the room and collapsed on the other bed. For a while he was silent. Finally he rolled over onto his stomach, staring at the rose-colored carpet. "Sorry about all this."  
  
Maya frowned. "Huh? What should you be sorry for?"  
  
"Mmm." He lifted one hand and counted on his fingers. "Forcing you to come on this stupid trip even though you were sick. Being a jerkoff to you all morning. Owning such a disgraceful car and failing to acknowledge the fact that it always breaks down when I need it the most. Having to stay the night in a little motel room with a funky smell, and what's worse, with *me*. Need I go on?"  
  
"Hey, come on, Finch," she protested, rising from her bed and sitting next to his horizontal figure. "Don't be so hard on yourself. I'm having a good time."  
  
He snorted.  
  
"No, seriously," she continued, sitting cross-legged on the bed. "I got a mobile massage in the seat of your car while listening to today's popular music. There was live entertainment, too," she added, remembering Finch's talent for the "robot". "Let's see. Well, I got plenty of fresh, highway air(which I think helped my cold a little), I was entertained by the Partridge Family's quirky everyday life, *and* I got to spend time with one of my favorite people. If that doesn't qualify as a good time, then I hate to tell you this, Finch, but you just don't know what fun is."  
  
Turning over onto his back again, he stared up at her. Maya became abruptly aware of just how close they were to each other, and how very, *very* alone they were. Suddenly she could feel the heat from his leg that was pressed against her thigh, could detect the scent of his sharp, spicy cologne as it drifted from him. His keen blue eyes stared at her, *into* her, until she felt her face become hot.  
  
"--just saying that?" he was saying.  
  
She blinked. "What?"  
  
"I said, you're not just saying that?" He looked up at her expectantly.  
  
"No! No, of course not!" she said, laughing a little forcefully. "This has been a really fun trip, even if a few things have gone wrong." Reaching down and tousling his hair, she crawled off the bed and stood up. "Which reminds me, you might want to call your grandmother and tell her we can't make it today. I'm going to check out the bathroom, make sure there aren't any roaches or anything."  
  
Maya could feel Finch's eyes on her as she made her way to the bathroom and shut the door behind her. As soon as the light was on, she sat down on the edge of the bathtub and rested her chin on her fists, trying to slow her breathing. *What the hell was that all about?* she thought to herself in alarm. A moment like that could be the start of something dangerous. Finch wasn't supposed to make her feel breathless, much less lightheaded. She wasn't supposed to blush when he fixed her with his intense azure gaze.  
  
She wasn't supposed to be attracted to Finch.  
  
Standing up and pacing the tiny bathroom, Maya wracked her brains trying to analyze the situation. They were alone together, and they were bonding far better than they would normally do at the office. He was being the Dennis Finch he was too reluctant to be around everyone else but her. It was only natural that she would feel something for him; they were becoming closer friends.  
  
But still, did that account for the fact that out of the blue, the thought of his hands on her hips or his lips on her neck made her shudder, not with displeasure, but with bliss? She thought once again of that kiss on her cheek, and suddenly she realized it had affected her so much only because she had *liked* it so much.  
  
"I am in serious trouble," she whispered to her reflection in the mirror.  
  
After taking a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door and willed herself to step forward. To her surprise, Finch was gone. She wrinkled her brow in confusion until her eyes fell on a message left on the bedside table, written on a complimentary notepad. She took it up and read it.  
  
::Hiya Maya,  
Called my grandma. She's cool with everything.  
Don't freak out, I went for a walk to see what  
Monticello has to offer. And to think. Left the  
key with you, so don't go anywhere, and don't   
open the door for anyone but me.  
Ciao, Finch::  
  
A happy face had been doodled at the bottom of the page. Maya grinned in spite of her current predicament. "'Ciao, Finch'," she repeated, shaking her head. Who else would it be? Replacing the notepad on the table with a smile, she kicked off her shoes and stretched out on her bed by the window. As she grabbed the remote control and turned on the television, she surfed the channels absently and wondered when Finch would be back.  
  
  
  
  
"Maya! Open the door, I could use some help here."  
  
Not even trying to guess what that meant, Maya rose from the bed and threw the deadbolt as she heard *and* felt Finch's shoe come in contact with the bottom of the door. "Hang on," she called exasperatedly, opening it wide and staring in puzzlement at what she saw.  
  
Finch stood outside the door, a sack of Chinese food in one hand and a large bag of... something in the other. A box of doughnuts balanced precariously on top of his head. "If you would be so kind?" he said, his eyes sweeping in the general direction of the doughnuts.  
  
She quickly plucked the box off his head, resisting the urge to laugh. "How long have you been walking like that?" she had to ask as he elbowed his way inside.  
  
"For the past sixteen blocks," he replied as he set both parcels on the desk next to the television. "Plenty of people laughed and pointed, but you know, I'm never gonna see them again, so who cares? You like sesame chicken, right?"  
  
"Uh, yeah, it's my favorite," she said, surprised. As she set the box of pastries on the bedside table, she gestured to the bag that didn't contain Chinese food. "Whatcha got there?"  
  
Finch grinned mischievously, and Maya's guard was up instantly. "I happened across a video store that rents out game systems. Behold!" he declared, removing a large black object from the bag. "I rented a Playstation 2 *and* a whole crapload of games. I hope you know they charged me extra for two controllers."  
  
Maya's jaw dropped as she came forward to look at his treasure trove more closely. "Finch, what on earth possessed you to go into a video game frenzy?"  
  
"Well, I know they're your secret passion," he said, poking her in the ribs and causing her to blush. "So I figured, if we're gonna be stuck here 'till tomorrow, we might as well make the most of it. Unless..." His eyebrows raised in a very smug, Finchy expression. "You don't think you can beat me at Gran Turismo 3. Which of course is understandable."  
  
The blush abruptly left her cheeks, all ambiguity toward her companion forgotten. No one challenged Maya Gallo to a video game competition and won. She matched his arrogant expression and planted her fists on her hips. "Oh, believe me, my friend," she replied, leaning forward until their noses almost touched, "losing to you is the last thing on my mind."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Whooo, now Maya's got the hots for Finch, Finch's got the hots for Maya... Too bad neither of them even know it! Oh but they will. Soon enough. But not now! Anyway, this was a particularly fun chapter to write. I enjoyed Finch's goofy little note he left. Oh, and duh, I forgot to mention, if everyone didn't already figure it out, Vicki Costa is *not* in my story. First of all, I started the freakin' thing before the new season even came out, so it's not my fault. And plus, I don't really like her. And if she and Finch end up getting together, I am SO gonna open up a can of whoopass!! So anyway, glad I got that out in the open, and please leave a review. Ta ta, baby go to sleep now!  
  
Wakizashi  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	8. Saturday, 8:52 PM

A/N: Sorry about the delay. I was going to have this chapter out really fast, so everybody would be all, "Yay, another chapter! That girl must be on speed or something!" But no, every single person in my family simply *had* to use the computer. and just so you know, I am most assuredly not on speed. However, I have had three glasses of Dr. Pepper and a bag of M&M's, so I'm thinking that might account for my sudden urge to give my hands something to do. Anway, it was either this, or solve that accursed rubix cube, and I just asked myself which was a better use of my time. Put your hands together!  
  
Disclaimer: 'Just Shoot Me' does not belong to me. Although I wouldn't mind getting a job working there, even as a stagehand. Here's an impression of me if I worked there: "OH MY GOD, David Spade just made me get him coffee!!!!"  
  
  
  
Ciao  
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction  
by Wakizashi  
  
  
  
Saturday, 8:52 P.M.  
  
  
  
*Now this is my kind of weekend,* Finch thought, stretching lazily on his bed with his shoes on in a total disregard for the floral-patterned bedspread. *Fat on fast food, all my favorite video games at my disposal, and the love of my life brushing her hair in the bathroom.* He let out a wistful sigh at the thought, trying to focus on non-Maya things as the first drops of rain fell outside the window.  
  
Which was hard, considering he had spent the entire day exclusively with her. After a delectable lunch of sesame chicken(which he had, of course, known was Maya's favorite), sweet-and-sour pork, and fried rice, they had commenced with an all-out battle royale to prove which of them was the electronic champion of the universe. Maya's talents had shone at every racing game they had played, but Finch was the all-time, hands-down victor when it came to the fighting games. At present, the match was a draw.  
  
After their digital appetites had been satiated, their stomachs once again demanded their attention. They had forced themselves to leave the motel room and get some fresh air, and took a walk to the nearby Taco Bell-- Maya's treat. Even though they had kindly been requested to leave after Finch had started drinking hot sauce with a straw and raised quite the commotion, they still enjoyed the pleasantly chilly walk back to their room in the retreating evening light. And to top it all off, Maya was almost completely over her cold. The only drawback of the entire night was the decision to watch that moronic, made-for-TV movie about the Bermuda Triangle that had been on. And that was only because there was nothing else to do.  
  
Finch could not remember when he had had such a terrific weekend. Maya was the greatest person in the world to hang out with. Ever. Even now, she was in the bathroom, and he missed her. He felt ridiculous even admitting such a thing to himself, but it was true. He couldn't stand being away from her. What was worse, he couldn't stand being *with* her and not being able to grab her and kiss her brains out. But then, that was always how things happened for him.  
  
"Come on, Maya, you've taken long enough," he teased. "Did you fall in or something?"  
  
"That's enough out of you!" The bathroom door opened, and Maya stepped out, her hair no longer restrained by its clasp and cascading past her shoulders in silky rivulets. Finch couldn't help but gape. She was gorgeous and she didn't even know it.  
  
"Oh wow, it's really starting to come down out there," she said as she sat down on her bed. "Umm, can I borrow your toothpaste? The cold medicine was making me all spacey this morning, and I completely forgot to bring any."  
  
"I shall be glad to hook you up." He rolled off the bed onto his stomach, eliciting a laugh from her, and fished around in his luggage until he found a tube of Colgate. He offered it up to her, and she accepted it graciously.  
  
"Many thanks."  
  
He craned his head and watched her as she returned to the bathroom, and once he was certain she was occupied, he reached under the bed and pulled out a book bound in deep red leather. Passing his hand over the cover, he read the slightly faded gold letters: 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' by William Shakespeare. He had searched forever in vain at every bookstore in New York City for the oldest copy he could find, but finally, after resorting to a frantic book hunt on Ebay, he had found this little gem; printed in 1610 and in... well, reasonably good condition. It wasn't anything special, but as long as it brought a smile to Maya's face, it was worth the hassle.  
  
As abruptly as that thought had entered his mind, another one soon took its place. What would Jack say about this little gift? Finch knew exactly what he would say: "Sooo, Dennis, thought you'd get on my daughter's good side with a premeditated present? Thought you'd get a hug in return, or a kiss on the cheek, maybe something more?" Looking down at the book in his hands, he finally scowled. *Hell with it,* he thought. He didn't go to the trouble of getting something for Maya to win her over. He did it because she was his friend, and he knew she would like it.  
  
Getting to his feet, he made his way to her bed and threw back the covers. After he placed the book carefully on top of one of the pillows, he hastily pulled the bedclothes back into place as he heard the bathroom door open. He quickly flopped down on his own bed, and Maya entered the room once more.  
  
"Hey Ma-YAH, care to play another round of 'Silent Hill 2'?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "I'll time you this time and see how long it takes you to get killed."  
  
She made a disgusted face. "Ugh, no thanks. The sound effects in that game are so disturbing. It's like they brought a tape recorder down into Hell."  
  
"Mm, nice analogy." He held back a grin as he watched her sit down on her bed and frown at the square outline on her pillow. She pulled back the bedspread, her eyes widening.  
  
"What..." Lifting the book as if it were some sacred artifact, she looked up at Finch in disbelief. "Did you...?"  
  
Feigning a look of perplexity, he came to sit next to her and shook his head. "Now isn't that odd? I was always led to believe that hotels usually left mints on their guests' pillows. Guess the times have changed."  
  
"Finch!" She turned the book over reverently in her hands, an enormous smile lighting up her entire face. "I can't believe you did this! This thing's ancient! Look at the binding, it's... well, it looks almost perfect! How did you ever get your hands on this?"  
  
"Oh, that doesn't really matter," he said nonchalantly, patting her shoulder. "I just knew you liked all that Shakespeare garbage, so I thought you'd prefer an older copy over some cheap, six-dollar edition from Barnes & Noble."  
  
Suddenly Maya's arms were around him, and her face was buried in his throat. As with every time she had hugged him, Finch was forced to acknowledge how perfectly she fit against him, how her head tucked neatly just under his chin. He tried taking a deep breath to clear his head, but instead grew foggier as he inhaled the heady aroma of her shampooed hair. Resting his hands lightly on her back, he wondered how long he could maintain consciousness.  
  
"Thank you so much, Dennis," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt collar. His heart did cartwheels at the sound of her voice uttering his first name. Maya never called him Dennis. As she pulled away, she tucked a strand of dark hair self-consciously behind her ear and smiled again. "This is one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me," she told him, clutching the book fondly against her chest.  
  
He smirked. "Hey. Don't let me catch you telling everyone what a sweetheart I am, or I'll lose that whole Finchy image I got going on."  
  
At that Maya laid her book on her lap and frowned up at him in deep thought. In fact, she stared at him so long that he was about to wave a hand in front of her eyes when she finally spoke. "Finch... Why do you have to act like that, if it's not even who you are? Why *do* you act so rude, and insensitive, and... Finchy?"  
  
Oh, that stung. "What, is that what the term is for jerks now? 'Finchy'?" He rose to his feet, insulted. "Do you think I act the way I do on purpose? Or to hide who I really am? Listen, Maya, if I could be the kind, caring Dennis Finch you wish I could be, I would, but this is who I am, all right? Why can't you just accept me as *me*?" What was he saying? This was *him* talking, wasn't it?  
  
She stood up quickly and put her hand on his arm. "I do, Finch!" she protested. "You don't understand. It's just, lately you haven't been acting yourself. Or maybe you *have* been acting yourself, and you never did before." She shook her head, trying to get her thoughts straight. "But what I meant was, you have it in you to be as sweet as I know you really are. So why can't you?"  
  
"I don't have to listen to this, Ann Landers," he said angrily, walking to the door and yanking his coat on. "If I'm too Finchy for the likes of you, why'd you even want to come with me?"  
  
"Where are you going?" she demanded.  
  
"What do you care?" he replied, slamming the door shut behind him.  
  
  
  
  
As the water from a puddle seeped through Finch's sock and up the leg of his khakis, he wondered why he had to fall for Maya in the first place. She was so intelligent, and sophisticated, and compassionate and... well, above him. All he would ever be was a scrawny little wiseass, a disappointment to his family, and a punching bag for the majority of humankind.  
  
And an idiot who had forgotten to bring an umbrella.  
  
*Guess I have to face the facts,* he thought morosely, splashing down the wet sidewalk in no particular direction. *Even if anything happened between us, everyone would laugh us into an early break-up. She likes Steinbeck and London, I like Calvin and Hobbes. She goes to the opera, I go to Blockbuster Video. We're two totally different people.*  
  
He stopped in his tracks, looking up at the sky in despair. If they were so different, why did they seem so perfect for each other? When Maya was with him, she was more outgoing and less afraid to be herself. And when he was with her, she made him feel like he didn't have to make wisecracks to win approval. *We just... fit together,* he thought, his throat tightening.  
  
After walking aimlessly for several more minutes, Finch halted in the doorway of a bar and shook the rain out of his hair. He sighed, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Only one way to drown your sorrows.  
  
It was a typical dive. Neon Budweiser and Heineken signs in the tinted windows, torn leather bar stools, and a TV on the fuzz. He sat down on one of the stools and wiped off the surface of the bar distastefully. "Sea Breeze," he requested to the bartender, a hulking mass of muscles and T-shirt.  
  
For a while he sat motionless, staring down at the grimy floor. His unkempt blond hair fell forward into his eyes, obscuring his view of the green-and-white sneakers he wore. *Further proof of how different I am from Maya,* he mused blackly. She was so down-to-earth, so responsible, while he was so immature sometimes that he truly believed his twelve-year-old cousin was less juvenile. If Finch wasn't watching cartoons on a Saturday morning in his monkey slippers, chances were he was off at the arcade forgetting to pick up his laundry. Maya would sure have a lot of patience for that.  
  
Peripherally he became aware of an attractive redheaded woman sitting two stools away from him. He turned in his seat and bestowed his trademark sardonic grin at her. "Hey, can I buy you a drink?"  
  
"I already have one," she deadpanned, lifting up a martini to illustrate her response.  
  
As his drink was brought to him, he shifted to the seat next to her. "So you do, isn't that interesting?" He held out his hand, which the woman took reluctantly. "D. Finch. So what do people do for entertainment here in the fair town of Monticello? Besides roundin' up the hogs and such."  
  
"Ridicule visitors who think they're more refined than us," she replied. That being said, she took her martini with her as she sat at the stool farthest away from him. Ouch.  
  
"Dennis!"  
  
He jumped in his seat and swivelled around to see Maya standing in the open doorway, soaked from head to toe. *Oh hell, please don't tell me she saw me get burned,* he thought, cringing.  
  
"Oh Dennis, I'm so glad I found you!" she cried, running over to him and grabbing his hand in both of hers. Her eyes were misty with unshed tears. "I'm sorry I couldn't reach you at your condominium, but I had to find you to tell you that I'm leaving for Italy tomorrow morning, and I don't know if I'll ever be back!"  
  
He blinked at her, baffled. "What the--"  
  
"I just want you to know," she continued ranting, squeezing his hand in a vice-like grip, "that even though we'll never see each other again, I'll always remember you!" His eyes widened as she rested her hands on either side of his face. "Your eyes, your lips, your voice... You're the most amazing lover I've ever had. I'll never forget you, Dennis Finch."  
  
Finch was about to feel Maya's forehead to make sure she wasn't experiencing a relapse of her illness when she suddenly leaned forward and put her mouth to his. Numb from shock except for his pulse as it quickened to the point of resembling a malfunctioning metronome, he sat powerlessly while her fingers passed through his hair. A shiver erupted in his spine, and finally something clicked in his brain. He kissed her back, running his fingertips along her jawline, and as she pulled away excruciatingly slowly, he very nearly fell off the stool onto his head.  
  
"Goodbye, Dennis," she said huskily. "You'll find true love someday."  
  
For some reason or another, his vocal chords were unresponsive. So instead of replying, he merely gazed stupidly at her for a while. He was aware of a sudden presence at his elbow, and he turned his head slighly to see the redheaded woman bite her lip shyly and slip a folded piece of paper into his hand.  
  
"Call me," she whispered, casting a worried glance at Maya. Finch managed to make a strangled noise in return, and the woman walked slowly out of the bar, taking a last look at him over her shoulder.  
  
Maya smirked. "You're welcome," she said smugly, sliding onto the stool next to him and folding her arms. Finch was stunned.  
  
When he could finally speak, he turned toward her, fully aware of the stricken expression on his face. "What in God's name was that about!?"  
  
"Oh, quit freaking out, Finch," she said, chuckling to herself. "I saw your, let's just say, ineloquent pass at that girl when I came in, and I decided you'd probably need some help getting the edge on her. Get me the same as him," she told the bartender, pointing to Finch's drink.  
  
"I didn't need any help," he replied, indignant. His voice gave a humiliating crack on the last word. "How'd you find me anyway?" he muttered, swivelling back to the counter.  
  
The bartender set Maya's drink in front of her, and she took a small sip. "Mmm, pretty good. Maybe I should start trusting your tastes more." Spinning the glass in a lazy circle with her fingers, she sighed. "How did I find you?" she repeated, avoiding his eyes. "Well, I figured, in such a small town, there wouldn't be many places someone like you would go."  
  
He snorted. "Someone like me?"  
  
"Yeah," she said quietly, her eyes still hesitant to meet his. "Someone who had to get away from a... certain person, because he had just gotten his feelings hurt by that person; a person whom he assumed cared about him. A person who really *does* care about him, and just made a stupid mistake. A person who will admit what a big-mouthed moron she had been, and how very sorry she is. So I stopped in here." She finally looked up at him, her eyes begging him to forgive her. "Look, I found you."  
  
Finch tried not to smile at her, his male stubbornness refusing to cave under those big doe eyes. It didn't work. "It's cool," he told her, spreading his arms and accepting her hug with ridiculous glee. He paid for their unfinished drinks and walked her out of the bar, the redheaded woman's telephone number forgotton on the counter.  
  
"On the way here, I realized something," Maya reflected as they strolled down the dark, wet sidewalk in the drizzle. "I realized that there is no 'Finch the smart-aleck' or 'Finch the sweetheart'. There's only the one Dennis Finch, and he can be everything at the same time. Rude and sarcastic, yes; but also kind and thoughtful. 'Finch, one in six billion'."  
  
He nodded, trying to keep his eyebrow from lifting as she tucked her arm through his. "Hmm. Know what I realized?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"If I get a cold from all that face-sucking back at the bar, you're going down." He laughed as she smacked him on the back of the head.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: What'd you think? A little too bold of Maya? Perhaps. But in my opinion, she's gotten far less prudish than she was when the show first started. Hey, she helped Finch steal Nina's bikini from the Model Cafe, after all. Anyway, leave a review, because reading them always makes my day! Again, sorry about the delay. The next chapter will definitely not take as long!  
  
Wakizashi  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	9. Sunday, 4:09 AM

A/N: Oh man. That Halloween episode on Tuesday was sure... frightening. And not in a Halloween-ish way. In an "Oh my God, she thinks Finch is a girl" way. Sure, he was wearing a cute little green outfit, and his legs were... well, like two sticks of uncooked spaghetti, but who could seriously mistake him for a girl? Listen to his voice, for heaven's sake. Oh well, it was still a pretty funny episode. Except for the end. Thaaaat was just disturbing.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any elements of 'Just Shoot Me' whatsoever. The only thing remotely resembling ownership would be the little group photo of the gang I have on my bulletin board. That doesn't count.  
  
  
  
Ciao  
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction  
by Wakizashi  
  
  
  
Sunday, 4:09 A.M.  
  
  
  
Rolling over onto her side for the thousandth time that night, Maya Gallo lay on her motel bed, watching the curtains rustle slightly in the draft of the air conditioner. The storm had cleared sometime earlier(she had been awake when it had occurred), and now the light from the moon cast a silvery light through the window. She forced her eyes shut, hoping that would help her sleep, then gave up, expelling a breath of frustration as she flopped onto her back. Staring up at the ceiling, she tried to keep her mind off the man who lay asleep in a heap of bedclothes less than six feet away from her.  
  
She could not stop thinking about they kiss they shared. Well, not so much "shared" as Maya had inflicted it on him. Honestly, she was not entirely sure what had possessed her to do something that audacious. Of course, she had seen Finch get rejected by the woman at the bar, and she supposed he was already not in the greatest of moods-- he had *her* to thank for that. So she had lent him a hand.  
  
Nothing wrong with that, right?  
  
*Of course there was,* she thought, suppressing a groan. She hadn't just lent Finch a hand; she had thrown in her lips as well. Friends didn't make out with each other unless at least *one* of them was of a mind to become more than just friends. And Maya could clearly see which of the two that person was. For God's sake, she had nearly kissed him senseless. In her head, she could still clearly see the thunderstruck expression on his face when she had pulled away from him. He had almost lost his balance.  
  
But as taken aback as he had been, had he really been that disinclined to the idea of kissing her? After all, when he had gotten past the initial shock, he had countered her kiss eagerly, trailing his fingers down her cheek. He had been acting kinder than usual to her as well. There was the offer to help her with her article, and the spontaneous idea to spend the afternoon playing video games. And then, above all, was the book. He had gone out of his way-- *miles* out of his way-- to get a gift for her.  
  
Could it be possible that Dennis Finch was attracted to her, too?  
  
After a few minutes she sighed softly and tilted her head to look at Finch. Sometime during the middle of the night, he had kicked the cheery pink bedspread onto the floor. This had obviously made him cold, for he was now curled up in a cocoon inside the bed sheets, looking for all the world like a giant hibernating insect. The only parts of him that were exposed were the top of his flaxen head and one exposed foot.  
  
Maya smiled, despite her lack of sleep and the gravity of her dilemma. She swung her legs out of bed and stood up, making her nearly-blind way to the end of Finch's bed. Picking his bedspread up off the floor, she tucked it under her arm and set about disentangling the bundle of sheets from Finch's legs.  
  
Suddenly he murmured in his sleep, startling Maya into dropping the bedspread on the floor. As she reached down to gather it up again, she watched in the weak light from the moon as his features clouded in distress.  
  
"Urhmm... No..."  
  
Frowning, she dropped onto her knees at the side of his bed and rested a tentative hand on his arm. He made another anxious noise and rolled over abruptly, trapping Maya's hand under his bare chest. Blushing furiously, she tugged on it gently, she whispered, "Finch? Finch, wake up."  
  
His pale eyebrows drew together. "No... No, please, Jack..."  
  
She stopped trying to free her arm. *Jack?* she thought, confused. *Why's Finch having a nightmare about my dad?* Readjusting her position until it wasn't quite so uncomfortable, she shook his shoulder slightly. Unfortunately, this seemed only to *add* to his terror.  
  
"No, Jack, I do!" he said loudly, grabbing Maya's imprisoned hand in a death grip and digging his fingernails into it. She bit back a yelp as he continued raving in fear. "You gotta believe me, Jack! I swear to God I do!" Beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead, and Maya was genuinely worried now.  
  
"Finch, you have to wake up--"  
  
"Jack, no, put it down! Oh God! Jack, please, I love her!" This last sentence tore from his throat as he sat up straight in bed, his blue eyes wide with alarm. For a moment he did not seem to recognize his surroundings. Then, slowly, the events of the weekend came flooding back to him, and his gaze landed on her, then traveled down to her hand, where it was being held captive by his against his chest. "Oh, damn, I'm still alive," he muttered.  
  
Maya stared back at him awkwardly. "You were having a nightmare," she explained, quite unnecessarily.  
  
Nodding silently, Finch released her hand and wiped his brow, letting out a shuddering breath. As he collected himself, Maya sat down on the edge of the bed, concern eating away at her. He looked like hell.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.  
  
"Hmmm. How about no?" he retorted, rolling off the other side of the bed and standing up. Seeing that he was meagerly clad in a pair of Dexter's Laboratory boxers, Maya looked pointedly away as he hastily pulled on his khakis and stomped heatedly into the bathroom and shut the door. A few seconds passed before she heard the faucet running; no doubt he was splashing cold water onto his face.  
  
Remaining stubbornly at her post on the edge of her friend's bed, Maya ran the entire incident over again in her mind. Finch had been talking-- no, *pleading* with her father in his dream. Apparently, they were in a disagreement about something; something that had gotten Jack so angry that he was willing to hurt Finch. What was it? 'I do!' Finch had said. 'You gotta believe me, Jack! I swear to God I do!' Maya frowned in thought. *'Do' what?* she asked herself.  
  
There was something else. Upon waking up, Finch had shouted the utterly baffling words 'Jack, please, I love her!' Who was this "her" that Finch "loved"? And why would having such feelings for... whoever she was make Jack furious?  
  
The bathroom door opened, the harsh light flicked off, and as Maya's eyes became readjusted to the darkness, Finch walked over to his bed, his feet scraping heavily on the carpet. He looked steadily at her for several seconds and exhaled, his bare shoulders drooping. "Can I help you?"  
  
She sat there resolutely. "It was bad, wasn't it?"  
  
"Go to sleep, Maya."  
  
"Why won't you tell me about it?" she asked, her voice bordering on desperation. Finch purposely ignored her and stretched out on the mattress, forcing her to twist around and fold her legs beneath her to face him better. As he started to pull the sheets over his head, she quickly grabbed a handful of white fabric and jerked them out of his grasp. He gave her a sour look, but she continued, unfazed. "What was it about the stupid nightmare that makes it so freaking impossible to talk to me?" she demanded.  
  
In response he merely glared up at her, his blue eyes gleaming silver in the moonlight. *All right, I didn't want to do this,* Maya thought. She took a deep breath, steeling herself.  
  
"You were talking in your sleep," she said quietly.  
  
One blond eyebrow shot up instantly, a reaction she had expected. His other reaction, to her surprise, was to sit forward slightly, propped up against the pillows, and sigh in defeat. "Dare I ask what you heard?" he said, looking down at his hands.  
  
Maya shifted her weight until she was sitting cross-legged, suddenly ill at ease. "I-it sounded like you were having an argument with my father," she told him hesitantly, folding her hands in her lap because she wasn't sure what else to do with them. "But it was almost like... Dad was threatening you. You kept saying, 'I do, Jack, I swear to God I do', whatever that means, and then you said, 'put it down', so I guess he was getting ready to hurt you. And then you woke up." She had a feeling she should refrain from mentioning his last sentence, at least for the moment.  
  
Finally he raised his eyes to meet hers. "And that was it?"  
  
She nodded slowly. "Yeah," she said softly. Finch brought one hand up and rubbed wearily at his eyes, and Maya leaned forward, gentle but persistent. "What was it that made my dad so angry?"  
  
"Guh," he replied eloquently as he gave in at last, sitting up straight in bed. Maya kept her gaze focussed on his face to avoid allowing her attention to drift downward. "If you must know," he said, resting his arms on his knees, "it was about... a girl."  
  
Pretending she had not been aware of this fact, she simply said, "Oh."  
  
"We were in his office. Jack was-- I guess 'revolted' would be a good word for it-- by the thought of me being in... well, having feelings for her," he continued, sounding as if the dream was not the only cause of his distress. "He was extremely protective of her, you know? So I told him that I really *did* care about her, but he wouldn't believe me. He thought I was just attracted to her because of who she was." Finch shook his head. "He didn't know how right he was," he murmured.  
  
Maya frowned. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Jack was right; I won't deny it. But about the wrong things."  
  
For a while she sat in thought. Finally she blinked at him. "Okay, I'm lost."  
  
"I *was* attracted to her because of who she was," he explained, becoming more animated; even passionate. "But not because of her position, or who she was related to. It sure as hell wasn't because she was rich or famous. I... I cared about her because she was herself. And who she was was caring, and intelligent, and funny." The corner of his mouth twitched in a slight smile. "She was everything that I've never had it in me to be. But Jack thought I was just B.S.-ing. He looked like demons were going to come flying out of his mouth at any moment."  
  
She cringed at the mental picture. "So he tried to hurt you?"  
  
"Yeeeaahh, he picked up one of his fashion awards off his shelves and tried to bludgeon me with it. And that's when I woke up." He lowered his head until it rested on his folded arms, his hair falling into his eyes.  
  
Tucking her feet under her again, Maya leaned closer and lifted one trembling hand, scarcely knowing what she was doing. Wanting to offer comfort to Finch but unsure of what to do, she reached out her hand to the side of his face. Her fingers traced his hairline, then sank slowly into the mass of blond hair. At first he stiffened, surprised by such contact, but slowly he relaxed as she continued to smooth the tresses. He extended his arm to her, and though she felt slightly awkward about hugging an extremely shirtless Finch, she gladly accepted his embrace, pressing his head to her shoulder.  
  
For several perfect seconds neither of them spoke. At last Maya could no longer hold back the question she was aching to ask.  
  
"Who was she, Dennis?" she whispered.  
  
Finch shook his head almost imperceptibly against her. "I can't tell you," he murmured sleepily, his lips grazing her neck and causing her heart to leap into her throat.  
  
Barely able to keep her thoughts together, she took a deep breath. "Why not?"  
  
"Because it's you," he replied, then became rigid in her arms. He jerked away from her and sat up, straight as a board. Looking at her with an expression of total self-loathing, his mouth worked silently. His eyes squeezed shut, and he muttered, "Oh shoot."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Cliffhangers are fun, aren't they? *dodges flying vegetables* Yes, I thought that would catch everyone's attention. Don't be alarmed, everyone; as crucial as this chapter was, this story is *far* from over. Yes, I expect several more chapters to follow this one before the end finally gets here. Sorry this chapter was a tad shorter than the others, but I felt that was a very good place to stop. But that's just me. If you're sitting in front of your computer positively fuming, well... Ha ha! No, just kidding. Seriously, though, if the ending got you all in an uproar, I apologize. Be content with the knowledge that I'm already working on the next installment. So yay! Leave a review (hopefully leaving out the death threats) and tell me what you thought! Ta!  
  
Wakizashi  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	10. Sunday, 4:50 AM

A/N: It *was* rather cruel of me to leave you hanging like that. Don't beat me! To make it up to you, here's the next chapter, in all its glory! But first, some responses to your reviews. Cloudburst2000, yes, it is ironic that Maya heard Finch confess his love to her in his sleep, and he didn't even know she heard it. I did that on purpose... Mwahahah! And that idea of yours for Maya to stand up for Finch... well, that's kind of what I had in mind, but shhh! *wink* To Ryan, thank you *very* much! I don't know if the JSM writers would even care what I thought, but it was a nice compliment. And Yvette: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!! Don't freak out, here's the next chapter!!  
  
Disclaimer: Oh, I'm too lazy, go back and look at a previous chapter.  
  
  
  
Ciao  
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction  
by Wakizashi  
  
  
  
Sunday, 4:50 A.M.  
  
  
  
*If thy tongue offends thee, cut it out,* thought Finch, slightly altering a bible verse that suddenly occurred to him. Though he was trying his best to keep his cool, it was admittedly a very difficult thing to do; especially considering the fact that he had just confessed to his feelings for Maya-- not to anyone, mind you!-- but to Maya herself. And now she was staring at him expectantly, a look of sheer astonishment and, he thought, abhorrence, on her face. And they were alone. In a motel room. In the middle of the night. Great circumstances make it so much easier.  
  
"Dennis," Maya breathed, her brown eyes as wide as dinner plates. "What did you just say?"  
  
"I, uh, heh," he stammered, wishing he had brought some poison along with him for just such an occasion, "I said, 'Because ah-choo!' I sneezed, you know. Ah-choo. I was *gonna* say, 'Because it's none of your business, lay off me, Maya, before I push you off the bed!'" He bore his eyes into her, hoping to get his point across.  
  
Of course she wasn't buying it. "Oh, don't give me that, Finch, I know what you said!"  
  
"Then why'd you even ask me?" he muttered, folding his arms over his chest.  
  
Pushing her long, dark hair out of her face, she leaned forward and looked up at him. "I had no idea, Dennis. Why didn't you ever tell me?" she asked quietly, her eyes pleading for the truth. He hated it when she made him feel bad like that.  
  
"Why?" he repeated, casting his gaze at anything besides her eyes. "Your father, that's why. Do you remember how long it took for Jack to forgive Elliott for what he did to you? And he was just a one-time offender. Jack knows me, Maya. I don't even want to think about the many ways he could put me to death for even *thinking* of you like that. He has a lot of potentially lethal gadgets at his disposal." Maya opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to silence her. "I wanted to tell you, Maya," he said softly. "And I hated keeping it from you. But your dad told me to."  
  
And there it was. He said it. He supposed dying would be better than being in love with someone who didn't share his feelings anyway.  
  
Maya shook her head angrily. "Let me get this straight. My dad *forbade* you from telling me? He can't do that! He doesn't control my life. It's my business who I want to be with, no matter who it is. There's nothing my dad can do about that."  
  
"Oh, I can think of a few things," Finch started to say. Or rather, would have said, if the full meaning of what she had just told him hadn't finally sunken in. "Who... who you want to be with?" he echoed.  
  
But Maya was too busy venting to hear him. "I can't believe he thinks he can just choose who I date, like I'm fifteen years old again! You'd think he would be *happy* knowing that I was dating someone he's known for so long. I mean, my dad loves you! Why would he have any problem with it?"  
  
Evidently she finally realized who she had been ranting to, because she clamped a hand over her mouth. For a distressingly long time she made no sound or movement whatsoever. Finch, who was still reeling from her more-or-less admission of affection for him, reached forward to touch her arm in an effort to bring her out of her stunned trance.  
  
"Don't touch me!" she blurted immediately his fingers grazed her bare arm. She clambered off his bed and backed away from him in mortification, crumpling into the scuffed armchair in the corner as soon as her calves collided with it. With her legs drawn up to her chest and her hands clasped around her knees, she looked achingly vulnerable to Finch in her grey heather tanktop and flannel pants.  
  
Swinging his legs off the bed and standing up, he pulled his white T-shirt over his head and made his way slowly across the scratchy carpet to where Maya was sitting, her head buried in her arms in embarrassment and shame. He knelt down in front of her, clearing his throat softly. She raised her head reluctantly, and he took a deep breath.  
  
"This does *not* mean we're screwed, you understand me?" he said, stubborn determination creeping into his voice. "This doesn't change a thing between us. I'm sorry, but your friendship means too damn much to me to lose it over something so idiotic as your dad's disapproving wrath. When you and Elliott broke up, it nearly ended up destroying you both, and I am *not* going to let that happen with us. Okay?" He held out his hand.  
  
Staring at him for a long while, Maya finally gave him a shaky smile and placed her hand in his. He returned the smile and shook her hand formally, as if cementing a mutual agreement. But as much as he had intended to let go of it, he found he was unable to do so. On the contrary; his other hand came up, stroking the back of hers soothingly with its fingertips. Mentally berating himself, he winced and prepared for a punch in the arm or a slap in the face; an instinct brought on by experience.  
  
Instead, he was pleasantly surprised when she bent forward and practically fell into his arms. He resisted the unexpected urge to laugh and pulled her against him, brushing her long hair to one side to rub her back. As he looked down at his splayed white fingers resting on her skin, that distinctive tightness in his chest returned, a thousand times more intense than any previous moment. *Why does simple happiness have to be so impossible to attain?* he thought painfully as he felt Maya's cool touch on the back of his neck.  
  
After a few moments of blissful silence, Maya pulled away from Finch enough to smile at him. "Thanks, Dennis," she whispered. Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek that was hazardously close to the corner of his mouth. He suppressed a shiver, and as her gaze met his, he was taken aback to see a barely restrained longing in those big brown eyes. Mesmerised by her gaze, he sat powerless and unresisting as she pushed a stray piece of blond hair out of his face. She leaned forward and closed her eyes, and then abruptly his logic returned to him in a flood, and he jerked away from her.  
  
"No," he said decisively, shaking his head. "No, Maya, I'm not gonna do this."  
  
She blinked at him, hurt and confused. "Why? Because my dad would kill you if he knew? Dennis, why are you so afraid of what he'll do to you? Who I want to be with is my choice and *only* mine." Taking a deep breath, she added, "And I want to be with you."  
  
Finch's eyes slid shut, and he wished to God she hadn't said that. "It's not that I'm afraid of Jack." He paused. "Well, it's not *just* that. You, more than anyone else, know that he's like a father to me. Whenever I let him down, I feel like... I'm letting myself down. And if I ever did anything to hurt you--"  
  
"Would you?" she pried.  
  
"No, but that's not the point!" He passed a hand over his face. "Jack loves you so much that it's frightening, Maya. And if I ever *did* hurt you, it would kill him. And that would kill me, too."  
  
Maya said nothing, but he could tell from her silence that she had absorbed what he had just told her. It was true; Maya did understand him more than anyone else. She knew, underneath all the sarcastic comments and disrespect, how much Finch admired her father. She knew how hard he tried to please Jack, and how horrible it felt to let him down. And she knew that he let him down this time, it would equally destructive to them both.  
  
Swallowing a lump in his throat, Finch somewhow managed to admit to the woman he loved what he had already admitted to himself long ago. "That's why we can never be together," he said softly.  
  
The expression on her face was painful to look at, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. On her face was a combination of frustration, anger, and the most profound misery, mingled with a grim acceptance. She acknowledged that there was no dissuading him. She nodded wordlessly, looking down at her lap.  
  
Feeling like the worst person on the planet - worse than Hitler, Stalin, and Mussolini at a political tyrants' banquet - Finch gave her hand what he hoped, but what was clearly not, a comforting squeeze. "Try and get some sleep," he murmured, and recorded that moment as officially the most traumatic of his life as Maya slowly stood up and turned her back on him, literally and figuratively. He watched her lower herself dismally onto the mattress, watched her draw the sheets up over her head. As he pulled himself onto the chair and wrapped his arms around his knees, he looked out the window between the curtains to see the sky already beginning to lighten. Curling into a ball and resting his head on the lumpy armrest, he closed his eyes, wondering if things would ever be like they used to.  
  
  
  
  
*God in heaven, this is worse than when I woke up with my cat sleeping on my face,* thought Finch grouchily as he looked down at his wristwatch and groaned to see that he had only slept for little over two hours. As he peeled himself from the armchair and stretched in an attempt to realign his crooked back, he frowned at Maya's empty bed. Finding the bathroom unoccupied, he shoved his feet into a pair of fuzzy purple slippers and grabbed the key off the lampstand, becoming increasingly worried. The cold autumn air hit him like a cannonball as soon as he stepped outside, but he closed the door behind him and strode briskly down the second-story walkway, his rubber soles slapping loudly.  
  
"Maya?"  
  
His friend stood near the stairs to the ground floor looking down at the swimming pool, which was covered with a big blue tarp, her white hands gripping the railing. She was already dressed in a pair of simple blue jeans and a soft grey sweater, but her hair remained free of clasp or tie. Finch had always meant to tell her how beautiful her hair looked when she left it down, but now he supposed he had missed his chance. Walking slowly up to her, he laid a hand on her elbow. "Hey, it's not the right season for swimming. I promise once it warms up I'll take you to ride Splash Mountain or something."  
  
There was no sign from Maya that she acknowledged his presence; unless that blink counted, but she probably would've blinked anyway. Finch tugged lightly on her arm. "Come on back inside, Maya. You're gonna get sick again out here."  
  
She merely shrugged. Suppressing an exasperated sigh, he leaned his hip against the railing. "You know, as much as I enjoy these one-sided conversations we have," he said casually, "I can't help but notice that you seem to be avoiding me."  
  
Her head shook minutely. "No I'm not."  
  
"Mm-hmm, right. Y'know, there are always signs. Purposeful avoidment, limiting one's sentences to two- or three-word responses, that kind of thing. I've seen you ticked off before, Maya, like when Nina borrowed your boots and broke one of the heels off in a stormdrain while she was outrunning the cops." He looked at her face closely. "But when you're *really* mad, you don't say a word about it. And you're really mad."  
  
Maya said nothing in response, so Finch took it as a confirmation and continued. "You have every right to be mad, Maya, but you can't hate me for this; God, you just *can't*. Do you think you're the only one who's hurting, who feels like your heart's been ripped out and stomped on? This isn't exactly a luau for me, either, Maya. But I don't know about you, but I, for one, am not ready to become sworn enemies over this, okay?"  
  
Still she said nothing. All she did was look at him with those heartrending eyes. *Dear God, I broke my Maya!* he thought, swallowing a sudden lump in his throat.  
  
"Come on," he said softly, tugging her arm more persistently. "Let's go back inside. We'll call the repair shop to see if the car's fixed, and then we'll go see my grandmother."  
  
And in fact, the mechanics had inexplicably taken pity on them along with their predicament and had miraculously finished repairing the station wagon that morning. After checking out of the motel and returning the mountain of video games, they walked to the repair shop and paid for the damage fixed. Making absolutely certain that all of Finch's cds were present and accounted for, they completed the last leg of the trip to his grandmother's house in more or less utter silence.  
  
  
  
  
"Hey, Nana!"  
  
"Oh, Denny, I was beginning to think you weren't coming!" Finch embraced his grandmother, ignoring Maya's raised eyebrow at the mention of his nickname. As they were pulled inside and forced to sit down on a floral patterned sofa laden with about four thousand doilies, Gloria Finch[1] bustled out of the living room and returned with a tea tray overflowing with little triangular sandwiches. She was a small, diminutive woman, which Finch knew had been hereditary on his part, but also like him, she had a quick wit about her that was surprising.  
  
Mrs. Finch sat down on a large, padded armchair, and at that moment Finch heard the jingling of metal tags. He winced as his grandmother's reddish-brown pomeranian scampered into the room and jumped onto the couch between him and Maya. It placed its front paws firmly in his lap and commenced its 'Lick Denny's Face' ritual. *I hate dogs, I hate dogs, I hate dogs,* he repeated in a mantra over and over in his head.  
  
"Mitzi, leave him alone!" scolded Mrs. Finch, waving a bony finger at the little dog. "Don't you have any manners?"  
  
The dog held her ears flat against her head sheepishly, then buried her furry face in Maya's lap. She laughed and scratched her behind her ears, which caused the dog to wiggle in hyperactive delight. "Aww, aren't you just so cute?" said Maya, petting the ball of fluff happily. Finch was glad to see that she was in a better mood, but because of a dog!? What an insult!  
  
"So, Maya, here you are, finally in person," his grandmother said. "Denny said you were very pretty, but he hadn't prepared me for this!"  
  
"Denny" turned a humiliating shade of red as he reached for a sandwich, but Maya just laughed nervously. "Oh well, you're very kind, Mrs. Finch. It's a pleasure to meet you. Fin-- uhh, Dennis has told me nothing but good about you."  
  
Mrs. Finch laughed good-naturedly. "I'm sure he has, Maya," she replied, rolling her eyes at Finch sardonically. "Well, I guess we should get started with your interview, shouldn't we?"  
  
As Maya pulled a tape recorder and a notepad out of her purse, Finch stood up abruptly, barely allowing enough time for the dog to turn around and yap at him. "Ieee think I'm gonna go out on the back porch for a while and get some fresh air." Maya and his grandmother looked at him uncertainly, and he continued, "It's just, I've been driving a lot, and I need to stretch my legs."  
  
Maya frowned. "You're not staying to listen?"  
  
"N-nah, I... I've heard Nana's stories before - not that they're not totally rockin'... and besides, you know me. I'd be interrupting with jokes every thirty seconds. I'll be out back if you need me. Not that you *will*," he added under his breath as he left the room, sighing as he heard the sound of tiny claws clicking on the floor behind him.  
  
Walking out onto the covered porch overlooking the back yard, Finch closed the door behind him and sat down on the steps, pulling his leather coat tighter around himself. On any day of the year, even a cold autumn day like this one, the scenery surrounding his grandmother's house was breathtaking. The lawn extended for about forty feet until it connected with an encompassing forest of evergreens. On many occasions, Finch had seen a variety of wildlife enter the yard, not afraid in the least of the humans that shared their habitat. He could distinctly remember one night, as a boy, when he had sat on those same steps and thrown crackers to a family of raccoons. *To better days,* he thought dismally.  
  
A furious scratching at the back door interrupted his musings. He turned around irritably to see Mitzi the irrepressible pomeranian shredding the wood with her claws. "You little freak," he muttered as he stood up to open the door for her. He sat back down on the steps, running a hand through his hair, and the dog scurried down to the bottom stair and looked up at him with her vacuous black eyes.  
  
Finch stared back at her for a while. Her little empty-headed gaze never left his, which he thought was pretty weird. "What!?" he finally shouted, causing her ears to fold down for an instant. Then she shoved her nose against his leg and whined. He sighed. "You want me to hold you? Or did that little moron Timmy fall down the well again?"  
  
She raised her front paws in response and placed them on his sneakers. Muttering unintelligibly to himself, he hooked his hands under the furry animal's front legs and hoisted her into his lap. "You poor simpleton," he said, amused when she laid her head on his knees. "How did your kind survive this long without us humans to take care of you?"  
  
The dog yawned.  
  
"Huh, interesting," he said, stroking her fur. It felt nice; kind of like those fluffy dusters. "They say dogs are more intuitive than we give them credit for. Whoever 'they' are," he added, raising an eyebrow. "So what, did you come out here because you sensed I was depressed, or was it just because you're obsessed with me?" A sneeze was all he got from her in reply. "Thanks, I feel so much better," he said dryly.  
  
He paused. "Okay, you found me out, you crafty canine[2]. But let's take this apart first. Why am I depressed? Well, that's an easy one. I finally figure out, no thanks to my brainpower, that the woman I love returns my feelings; you'll have to ask *her* why. But ours is a forbidden love, my fuzzy friend." The little dog nuzzled his knee, and if Finch wasn't averse to anthropomorphizing animals, he could have sworn she was comforting him. "That's right. Her father would never go for the idea of us dating. And I couldn't just go behind his back. Normally, that would seem like something the Finch would do, yes. But I couldn't do that to Jack. You wouldn't take Milk Bones from someone who wasn't Nana, would you?"  
  
At the mention of the two sacred words, Mitzi jerked her head up and looked at him, wagging her tail frantically.  
  
"Don't answer that," he said.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: I'm soooooooooooooooooo sorry this took so long to write. I got stuck like, eight million times, and I went to my dad's house, and I had lots of schoolwork to do, and it was just a sad deal. But yay, it's done, and I apologize again for the wait. I promise the next one won't take so long. ...But did you like it? Didja didja didja!?! Just kidding. I know, it was kinda sad... Okay, REALLY sad, but it'll get happier in a couple chapters. I personally liked Finch's little "conversation" with the dog. We all know Finch despises dogs - ALL of us can quote how he feels about them: "Cats rule, and dogs can go to hell." - but I thought it'd be fun to have him talk about his problems to a member of the loathed species. It was kinda cute. ANYWAY, leave a review, blah blah blah, look for the next chapter soon!  
  
-Wakizashi  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com  
  
  
[1] - I have no idea what the name of Finch's grandmother is, s I made one up. I'm not sure it has even been mentioned on the show, but correct me if I'm wrong.  
  
[2] - I'm sure most of us know what "You crafty canine" is from, but for those who don't, watch 'Lost and Found' starring David Spade and Sophie Marceau. 


	11. Sunday, 11:14 AM

A/N: Hey HEY hey! I told you I wouldn't leave you hanging for that long, and then I did. I'm sorryyy! I feel all... bad and stuff. Some responses to your reviews: HMC, now Ah know you did NOT call my little Finchy what Ah THINK you called 'im! *snaps fingers* But I forgive you... for the moment. TasChiBandGrl, don't freak out, it's gonna happen eventually! And Hijah, I'm glad you like my story, and I won't let you down! All righty, let's get the next chapter started! Oh, and by the way, I thank you all for your support. If I hadn't gotten so many reviews, I probably wouldn't have written this much. *sniff* You guys! You're the best.  
  
On another note, guess what. No really, GUESS!! Just kidding. SERIOUSLY though, I got an autographed picture of David Spade. Yee-haw!! HMC, I know you have one too, but it's still a huge deal to me. It says, "Megan - Be cool. xoxo, David Spade". Now I is happy. And I can barely restrain my girly shrieks. SO ANYWAY, let's get going here!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing: Finch, Maya, Jack, Nina, Elliott, Vicki(even though she's not in my story), not even Kevin. Thank God. All I own is the dog.  
  
  
  
Ciao  
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction  
by Wakizashi  
  
  
  
Sunday, 11:14 A.M.  
  
  
  
"All right, I think that about does it," said Maya, shoving her notepad and recorder into her purse. "You've led quite an interesting life. Thank you very much, Mrs. Finch. I really owe you."  
  
"Oh, don't think anything of it, dear," replied Finch's grandmother, taking a sip of her tea. "I'm just glad I could help bring a little more culture to your magazine. I can't say I'm a big fan of Blush, but it's good to see that you're making an effort to give the magazine some class."  
  
Maya laughed. "And I'll be the first one to agree with you."  
  
Looking over her shoulder, Mrs. Finch sighed and shook her head. "Now I wonder what's gotten into that boy. Denny is usually so conversational when he comes over. I don't suppose you know what's bothering him, do you?"  
  
Maya bit the inside of her cheek, looking down at her hands. *I think I might have an idea,* she thought to herself. All Finch wanted was for her to understand his decision to respect Jack's wishes, and she had been nothing but a jerk to him all day. It wasn't his fault that they could never date; it was actually admirable of him to stand by his convictions. She decided she had to apologize to him when she got a chance.  
  
She caught his grandmother staring expectantly at her, and she quickly shrugged. "I guess he's just a little down because this weekend hasn't gone exactly as he planned, that's all. His car broke down, we had to stay in a motel, and we had no choice but to show up here a day late."  
  
"Mm, that must be it," Mrs. Finch replied, nodding thoughtfully. Leaning forward, she added in a confiding tone, "You know, from what he's told me about you, I can tell he admires you a lot, Maya." At Maya's reddened face, she laughed softly. "I'm sure you already knew that, but in case you didn't, it's something worth thinking about."  
  
Maya frowned. "Something worth thinking about?" she parroted.  
  
In response, Mrs. Finch gave her that all-knowing smile that only women wisened with age are allowed to give. "It surprises me that even now, young people can be so oblivious of someone's feelings for them."  
  
"Oh," Maya blurted, suddenly understanding what Finch's grandmother meant by her words. "Well, um, I- I'm not oblivious, Mrs. Finch," she said uneasily, wringing her hands in her lap. "I know that Dennis has feelings for me; he's the one who told me, actually. But he-- well, *we* decided that it wouldn't work out." Mrs. Finch raised an eyebrow, and Maya began to see where a lot of her grandson's mannerisms came from. She continued, feeling for some reason like she had to defend herself. "It's not that I never considered dating Dennis. But my father wouldn't approve of it, and Dennis really looks up to him."  
  
"And he doesn't want to let him down," the old woman finished. Maya nodded, wondering why she had just confessed all of that to Finch's own grandmother. "It seems to me, Maya, that maybe if two people really care about each other that much, everyone will see it and learn to accept it. Don't you think?"  
  
Maya looked down at her hands and nodded again. "Yeah, I know," she said quietly. "My dad loves Dennis like a son. If he could just understand the way he feels, then he might decide not to interfere. Dennis told me that he would never hurt me."  
  
"Do you believe him?"  
  
Looking up at Mrs. Finch, she thought for the briefest of moments. "Yes," she replied. "He might not like people knowing it, but he's the sweetest guy in the world."  
  
  
  
  
  
Maya Gallo groaned, watching Nina walk away after throwing out her invitation to Oscar Milos's fashion show. The ex-model had lamented her predicament, wishing she could go to both the fashion show and Sting's benefit to ban cloning, and had finally decided to attend the latter. "Ohhh, man!" Maya whined.  
  
Dennis Finch looked over at her from his desk. "What?" he asked.  
  
"Well, here we are working our butts off in this supposedly glamourous industry," she said sardonically, "but do we ever get to go to any of these cool things? No!" She shook her head to emphasize her annoyance.  
  
"Hmm." Finch looked at her thoughtfully. "Speak for yourself, nerd."  
  
Her mouth dropped open, and she glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
As a reply, he pulled a large black scrapbook out of his desk drawer and held it up. The cover read, 'D. FINCH. HANDS OFF!' "My clippings," he said in explanation. Maya frowned, and he beckoned her with his finger. "Come hither. Take a gander."  
  
Amused, she joined him at his desk, leaning over the counter to look at Finch's so-called "clippings". He thumbed through the pages with obvious pride, and she looked at the numerous pictures of major celebrities at various parties, award ceremonies, and benefits.  
  
"Here I am at a little music show called the Grammys," said Finch, chuckling to himself as he pointed at one of the pictures. He turned the page again. "Here I am bustin' a move at the 'Bring in Da Noize' Kwanzaa party."  
  
Looking closer, Maya shook her head, failing to see any trace of Finch in any of the clippings. "You're not in any of these pictures," she said slowly.  
  
"Oh, yes I am!" He moved the scrapbook closer to her, allowing her to see the pictures in more detail. "There's the tip of my head," he said, pointing to an obscure corner in one of the clippings. Maya bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "There's my elbow... See how Barbra Streisand looks all irritated? That's 'cause I just asked James Brolin to take a look at mah transmission." He snickered at the remembrance.  
  
Maya was stunned. "How did you get invited to these things?"  
  
"It's very complicated, you wouldn't understand," he replied in that self-important voice he always used to make himself feel superior. "But if you really want to go to that Milos show..." He snapped his fingers. "I can make it happen."  
  
She smiled wryly at him. "Yeah, right. How?"  
  
Bending over, he pulled the envelope that held Nina's invitation out of the waste basket. He smirked as he handed it over to her. "Here you go, *Nina*, pick me up at eight."  
  
Shocked that Finch would commit fraud and risk getting caught simply to allow her to attend the fashion show, Maya stared at him. "H-how am I gonna pass for Nina?" she asked to conceal her surprise.  
  
He smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he sent her off in the direction of her office. "Eat nothing. Drink everything." He leaned toward her and grinned conspiratorially. "Wake up in the coat room."  
  
Stifling a laugh, Maya cast one last grateful smile at him as she watched him head back to his desk. Already planning out what she was going to wear to the fashion show, she grinned and strode across the bull pen to her office, amazed at the unexpected bursts of generosity that Dennis Finch constantly surprised her with.  
  
  
  
  
"He tries to hide it," Maya said, taking a sip of her now lukewarm tea, "but he cares about his friends more than anything. They come first in his life."  
  
Gloria Finch smiled, nodding in understanding. "I got the feeling," she replied.  
  
Maya sighed. "I just wished he could realize that people would love him even without the wisecracks and clowning around. He seems to think that the only way to win approval is to be funny."  
  
"Oh, I know, dear," said Mrs. Finch. "He's always been that way. When he was a little boy, he got picked on a lot by his schoolmates; mostly because of his size." She shook her head sadly. "He didn't want to show how much it bothered him, so he used that dry sense of humor of his to hide his feelings. And he still does, to this day."  
  
"Like a defense mechanism," Maya murmured, more to herself than to Finch's grandmother.  
  
  
  
  
Her dark eyebrows drawing together in concentration, Maya stood in front of the magazine layout board, wondering if she could make any changes. For obvious reasons, though, she found that she couldn't concentrate. Nina had just been burned by that "hip" new Model Cafe by displaying her famous leopard-print bikini above the Dumpsters at the back of the building. The former model was trying to hide how disappointed she was, but Maya could tell she was hurt.  
  
If that wasn't enough, Finch had been pestering her all week about what a goody-two-shoes she was. Him and his stupid "adventure points". She didn't want everyone to think that she couldn't have any fun, but frankly, Finch's idea of fun took on a much more sinister form that hers did. He had gotten her to drop a water balloon on her own father; what more did he want!?  
  
The door to Jack Gallo's office opened, and the object of her annoyed musings stepped out, shutting the door behind him. *Speak of the devil,* Maya thought to herself ironically.  
  
And, wouldn't you know it, he walked directly up to her. Couldn't he see that she was busy? "Hey. Maya." Finch was speaking in a slightly hushed voice. Maya was curious, but didn't turn to look at him. "I think I have an idea how to get you more adventure points."  
  
Those ridiculous adventure points again. "I told you yesterday, I'm not taking a bath with you," she replied absently, still staring at the layout board.  
  
"Okay, I gotcha," he said, nodding. "Leave that one up in the air. But here's my second idea." Taking a step closer to her, he looked around before continuing. Finally in a low voice, he said, "Why don't we steal Nini's bikini?"  
  
Maya's eyes widened, and she turned on her heel to gape at him. What on earth was he thinking!? *He must be insane to think I'd pull off something like that!* she thought, and decided to voice her opinions. "Are you crazy?" she hissed at him. "That's theft and vandalism! And to go into a bar on a work night!" she added, not even willing to think of such an indiscretion.  
  
"Come on," he whined. Something wasn't right. Finch was acting strange, even for him. Why should he, the most selfish person she'd ever met, be so insistent that Nina should have her precious bikini back? Unless - and it was a long shot - he actually *cared* about Nina's *feelings*?  
  
A slow smile spread on Maya's face. "Wait a minute," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "I know what this is. You're doing something nice for Nina!"  
  
Suddenly Finch looked uncomfortable. "No, I'm not..."  
  
She grinned at him, her voice raising in volume. "Yes you are, you're nice!"  
  
"Shut up," he retorted, glaring daggers at her.  
  
But Maya was too preoccupied with the overwhelming notion of Dennis Finch going miles out of his way to make one of his friends happy. Not only that, but dragging another of his friends with him. She stared at him, an amazed smile on her face. "Underneath all the snide little insults, you're just a sweet little puppy-dog with a great, big heart!" she exclaimed.  
  
A blonde eyebrow suddenly arched, and she realized that that probably wasn't the best thing she could have said. Finch smiled deviously at her and raised his hands in front of him like paws. "Puppy needs a bath," he said, wiggling his fingers at her. With an annoyed sigh, she shoved him away and walked past him. But she knew, despite all of her instincts, that she had already agreed to help him.  
  
  
  
  
"Your tea must be ice-cold, Maya," exclaimed Mrs. Finch, startling her from her thoughts. She looked up at her in surprise, then down at the dregs at the bottom of her teacup.  
  
"Oh, it's all right," she said, offering an appreciative smile. "I think I've had enough, but it was delicious. Thank you, Mrs. Finch." She stood up and stretched, remembering how much she had been sitting during the past two days. Biting her lip in concern, she cast a worried glance at the back door. "Umm, I- I think I'm going to join Dennis outside," she stammered, not sounding at all casual or convincing. "I could use some fresh air myself."  
  
But the old woman understood, and she smiled. "Of course, dear. You go on; I've got dishes to do anyway."  
  
Maya smiled back at her and made her way to the back of the house, opening the door to the porch and wincing as it creaked. The first thing that struck her was how beautiful the scenery was. The long, green expanse of the backyard somehow gradually melted into the tall forest of evergreens beyond. It was very quiet and peaceful, which was a rare experience for a person who lived in the concrete forest of Manhattan.  
  
The second thing that struck her was how adorable Finch looked.  
  
He sat on the steps of the porch, staring out past the yard into the forest. His mass of blonde hair was tossed into disarray by the chilly breeze, and his left sneaker tapped the rhythm to some tune in his head on the wooden step. The small, fluffy dog asleep in his lap did nothing but add to the endearing scene.  
  
"I thought you hated dogs," she pointed out.  
  
Finch jumped slightly, and twisted around to look up at her. "Yeah, well," he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders, "she's keeping me warm. A poor substitute for a cat, but what are ya gonna do?"  
  
Shutting the door behind her, Maya walked across the porch and sat down next to him on the steps. For a while neither spoke, but simply took in the quiet, rare beauty of Nature. "It sure is pretty here," Maya finally said quietly.  
  
Her companion nodded. "Yeah."  
  
*That's it, I can't stand it anymore,* she thought exasperatedly. "Finch, I'm so sorry for the way I've been acting," she said morosely, turning to face him. "I shouldn't be mad at you. You're the only one out of the two of us who's acting with any maturity. I've just been acting like a... witch with a capital B." She reached out and grasped his hand, unable to ignore the electricity caused by their touch. "Please forgive me, I feel awful," she pleaded.  
  
His lips curved in a smile, and he squeezed her hand comfortingly. "Hey, come on, Pretty Eyes, you think I could say no to that face?" Maya grinned, and he poked her in the ribs. As she started giggling, he released her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a sort of half-hug. She snaked an arm around his waist and closed her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder.  
  
"You're a good ol' chap," she said, smiling as she breathed in the fresh autumn air, mingled with the clean smell of Finch's shirt. Every shred of anger, confusion, and disappointment between them washed away in that moment, and Maya was Finch's friend once again. In that moment, she became the woman he could joke around with, the woman to whom he could tell anything, the woman he could always trust.  
  
To Maya, however, Finch had become the man she loved.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Whooooo yeah, dass what I'm talkin' about! I know what you're thinking: took her long enough, didn't it? I happen to agree with you. But I didn't want to make her just suddenly be like, "Oh hey, I love him." She had to take some time until she realized it. This *is* Maya we're talking about here. Anyway, hope you liked my latest chapter! Did you enjoy the flash-backs? They were some hard writing, I can tell you that. The first one was from the episode "The Emperor", with guest star Dana Carvey, and the second was from one of my favorite episodes, "Nina's Bikini". It took a lot of rewinding my 'Just Shoot Me' tape with the closed captions on, but I think I got all the lines pretty accurate. I just wanted to get the message across that Finch is more caring than he wants everyone to think. Tell me if I left anything out. And I hope you do so in a review, hint hint. Meanwhile, I'll be working on the twelfth chapter while staring at my autographed picture of David Spade. Twelve chapters already, my goodness!  
  
Wakizashi  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	12. Monday, 10:07 AM

A/N: Wow, this story has gotten much longer than I thought it would be! Oh well, like anyone cares! And if it was up to me (and it pretty much is) it would just keep going on forever. But I'm not sure how long FF.net would go for that, so alas, I am forced to end my story sometime. Not right now, of course. I'm having way too much fun. And I hope you are, too! Man, I am so glad everyone decided to give this story a chance. If it weren't for you guys, stories that have such huge potential - like "Traffic Patterns" and "Mr. Gallo Goes to Washington" - would never gain the momentum to keep them going.  
  
Before I start, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to either Jamie or Jessie - whichever of the two was kind enough to leave the longest, most encouraging review I've ever received. I certainly have never been anyone's writing disciple before, much less been dubbed a "writing goddess". Your review was definitely the worst thing you could've done for my ego, but I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciated it. Okay, anyway, on with chapter twelve.  
  
Disclaimer: 'Just Shoot Me' and all its characters belong to NBC and Steven Levitan. So, sadly, I do not own Finch. Maybe one day... No, not even then.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Ciao  
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction  
by Wakizashi  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Monday, 10:07 A.M.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Good morning, Nina," said Finch cheerfully, stirring his coffee as he saw Nina Van Horn heading toward the kitchenette. "How was your weekend?"  
  
Nina blinked rapidly, as if attempting to dissolve her obvious hangover. "Good *morning*? God, what time is it?" she exclaimed in disbelief, checking her wristwatch and rolling her eyes. "Finch, if I ever show up for work this early, I want you to take those pills in my purse, dump them all in some vodka, and force it down my throat."  
  
"Hah, it's a deal," he replied, taking a long swallow from his mug. As he set it on the counter and opened the refrigerator door(on the first try! Booya, grandma!), whistling the entire time, Nina watched him suspiciously. After a short perusal of its contents, he took a cup of cherry yogurt and shut the door with his hip.  
  
"What are you so jolly about?" she asked, her hands fisted on her narrow hips.  
  
Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, Finch shrugged and peeled the lid off of the yogurt cup. "Do I have to have a reason to be in a good mood?"  
  
Before he could protest, she grabbed his mug and downed the rest of the coffee in less than two seconds. "Well," she said, setting it down again, "unless George Lucas, Cindy Crawford, and Spider-man show up right now to tell me they all played 'Dungeons & Dragons' at your apartment last night, I'm afraid I'll need an explanation."  
  
"Hey." He pointed at her. "Wolverine could kick Spidey's nerdy ass. And anyway," he added, licking the yogurt lid, "I don't need to be surrounded by celebrities to have a good time. Unlike some people."  
  
Nina glared at him. "Why, you little gerbil. I'll have you know that I wasn't present at one solitary, star-studded event this weekend. In fact, if Billy Idol hadn't been down with strep throat, I wouldn't have left my apartment at all."  
  
Finch nodded. "You bring him soup?" he asked around a mouthful of yogurt.  
  
"Scotch." She stared at him for a moment, then suddenly smiled in realization. "Hold on, I know why you're in such a good mood. You were with Maya all weekend!" She nodded triumphantly, as though she had discovered the perfect energy source. Annoyed, the blonde pulled out the coffee pot, pointedly ignoring Nina's smug look. Refilling his mug, he walked past her across the bull pen to his desk. To his great irritation, she followed him. "Aha! Your refusal to answer me proves I'm right."  
  
He rolled his eyes. "And if you accused a monk who had taken a vow of silence of stealing your purse? That would make you right?"  
  
Blinking in confusion, she obviously decided to avoid that topic. "Well, are you going to tell me what happened or aren't you?" she demanded. "Come on, Finch, let me in on all the juicy stuff."  
  
"Nina," he said exasperatedly, "There is no 'juicy stuff' to let you in on. And if there was, I highly doubt that I would suffer from a lapse in sanity long enough to tell you about it."  
  
"So nothing happened?" She scoffed. "Boo! I thought you had the hots for Maya! Some Casa Blanca you are."  
  
*We're less than six feet away from Jack's door, and Nina loses control of the volume of her voice,* he thought, wincing. "I believe the term you're looking for is 'Casanova'," he replied, bending down to put some papers in his file drawer. "And will you keep it down? Jack's already lost all respect for me. I certainly don't need you digging my grave for me."  
  
As he closed the drawer and straightened again, he looked up in surprise to see Nina smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry, Finch. I don't mean to make you feel bad. To tell you the truth, when I found out Maya and Elliott had started dating, the first thing I thought was, why not you?"  
  
Finch stared at her in disbelief. When he finally found his voice, he managed to get out a hoarse "Really?"  
  
"Really! I mean, I've known you for over ten years, and Elliott even longer than that. You think I haven't noticed what a horrible date Elliott is?" The corner of her lips curved in a small smirk. "I've seen that man come into this office with three different women in one week. Now you can't tell me I don't know which of you is a better match for Maya."  
  
His throat constricted, stunned by the woman's unexpected sensitivity. How could a woman who had tried to feed a bagel to her carnivorous plant be so in-tune with the workings of her place of employment? "Thanks, Nina," he said softly. "That means a lot to me."  
  
Smiling gently, she walked around the front of his desk and pulled him into a hug. Finch used to feel uncomfortable hugging women who were taller than him, but he decided that there were far too many of them out there to bother nursing a bruised ego about it. Now he returned Nina's embrace tightly, grateful to have her as a friend despite her numerous idiosyncrasies.  
  
"You and Maya have something special," she whispered. "Jack will understand. Don't let anything stop you."  
  
Finch sighed and rested his head on her shoulder. "Maybe," he murmured.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
It was hard for Finch to keep from thinking about Maya Gallo when she walked by his desk every five minutes. Just when he would succeed in concentrating on his work, she would emerge from her office and stride past him through the door to her father's office, with her perfect hair and her sweet smile. *This whole 'just friends' thing is getting to be a pain in the ass,* he thought sullenly.  
  
The telephone rang, giving him a start. He picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. "Jack Gallo's office, can I help you?"  
  
"Hi, Uncle Dennis!" squealed a childish voice on the other end.  
  
He grinned. "Hannah, how's my girl? Hey, why aren't you in school? You aren't skipping already, are you?"  
  
"I never skip," she replied, giggling. "It's a teacher's in... in-service day, so we get to stay home. Is Daddy busy?"  
  
"Mmm, not at the moment," he said, checking Jack's appointment schedule. "What do you want to talk to him for? Are you all of a sudden too good to talk to me?"  
  
Hannah laughed again. "No... But can I talk to him anyway?"  
  
Finch let out an exaggerated sigh. "I suppose I can work something out for you. But I'd better see you here next 'Take Your Kid to Work' day, or you'll never hear the end of it. Deal?"  
  
"Deal!"  
  
"Okay, I'm going to put you on hold, Dollface." He pressed the 'hold' button and hung up the receiver. Opening the door to Jack's office, he leaned inside. "Jack, your charming daughter is on line one."  
  
Maya, who was seated at the chair in front of her father's desk, twisted around at Finch's entrance with a slight blush. Concealing it, she grinned at the mention of her little sister. "Hannah's on the phone? Tell her I said hi, Dad."  
  
"Sure." Jack picked up the phone and smiled. "Hi, Hannah-bear! Maya's here, and she says hello. ...Yes, Dennis is right. You should come to the office sometime." He put his hand over the speaker and gestured to Maya. "The rough draft looks fine, just have the final copy on my desk by Wednesday."  
  
She nodded and rose from the chair. Seeing his cue to leave, Finch turned to walk back to his desk, but he wasn't able to escape in time.  
  
"Dennis, wait!" He stopped and faced Maya, who had closed Jack's door and was holding three glossy sheets of paper. *So it's still Dennis, is it?* he thought, wondering why she hadn't gone back to calling him what everyone else did... besides "weasel". "Which of these borders do you think would work best with my article?"  
  
He blinked. "Oh, um..." Taking the sample pages from her, he scrutinized each of them. "The green one's kind of cool, but since it's going to be in the fall issue, I'd say the orange would be the best one to use."  
  
Maya smiled as he handed the pages back to her. "That's exactly what I was thinking. Thanks, Dennis!" With a brief pat on his shoulder, she strode across the bull pen to her office.  
  
Letting out the breath he had been holding, Finch slumped over his desk, resting his chin on his arms. How was it that Maya was so good at pretending that nothing was different between them? She had ceased to address him by his last name, but other than that, they were nothing more than friends and co-workers. Was their eventful weekend together that forgettable to her?  
  
He felt a finger jab him hard on the top of his head. Looking up irritably, he saw Elliott DiMauro standing on the other side of his desk. He didn't look especially like the Good Humor Man. "Hello, Smelliott," said Finch, taking a swallow of his now luke-warm coffee. "How'd your casual-wear shoot go?"  
  
"You slept with her," Elliott said bluntly.  
  
Finch nearly dropped his coffee mug along with his jaw. "What!? Who?"  
  
"Maya, that's who."  
  
Blinking at him in disbelief, Finch felt a sudden fury burning inside him. Did everyone think he was that shallow? "You know, you are one paranoid dude, you know that?" he shot back angrily, remembering to lower his voice. "And what if - just a hypothetical question here - I *had* slept with her? What would you do then?"  
  
"Don't mess with me, Finch," Elliott snarled. "If you did anything to her, I'll rip out your intestines, tie them to a speedboat, and we'll go waterskiing. How about that?"  
  
He couldn't even believe what he was hearing. Elliott DiMauro had a different woman every week; a different, flawless supermodel who, more often than not, learned all she knew about biology from a placemat at Red Lobster. Why was he so obsessive about Maya? He didn't love her, Finch knew that much. She was like a possession to him, and if he couldn't have her, he wasn't going to let anyone else.  
  
Managing to form an expression of both disdain and pity, Finch shook his head at him. "Do you even know how crazy you sound? You lost Maya, Elliott. And it was your fault you lost her." He ignored his deathglare and continued. "You want to know something? I wouldn't have slept with her even if she begged me." To his own surprise, he actually meant it.  
  
Elliott, however, was not convinced. "You think I actually believe you?"  
  
"No. No, I'm sure you don't believe me. But that doesn't matter." He set his mug down on the desk and stared up at Elliott. "Maya is my friend. Maya is my *best* friend. And she means too much to me to jeopardize our relationship with something as pointless and potentially destroying as sex."  
  
And of course, the photographer didn't let *that* slip by him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked, folding his arms.  
  
"You know exactly what it means," Finch said scornfully. "I really feel sorry for you, Elliott. Your life is filled with nothing but material things. All these stick-thin, empty-headed models you go out with... They're just toys. You play with them until you're tired of them." He looked across the bull pen at Maya, who was sitting on the edge of a desk and chatting with one of the workers from maintenance. "But Maya isn't one of your toys. She's a strong, amazing, compassionate woman with real feelings and real vulnerabilities. And maybe you don't realize it, but if you keep treating her like a toy, eventually she's going to break."  
  
Elliott nodded, as if it all made sense to him now. "So what you're saying is, you're in love with her."  
  
For a full minute, neither men spoke. Finch was sick of denying what he had felt in his heart for years, and he stared at Elliott with an almost tired expression. In turn, Elliott stared back, daring Finch to admit what he must have already suspected long ago, but only until now had the courage to ask.  
  
Finally Finch nodded, never breaking eye contact with the photographer. "Yes, Elliott. That's what I'm saying."  
  
"Okay." His expression unreadable, he spun on his heel and began walking toward Maya. A million equally disastrous ways that Elliott could humiliate him raced through Finch's head as he hurried after him. As Maya turned to face them, her ex-boyfriend cleared his throat and announced in a voice loud enough for the entire office to hear: "Hey Maya, Finch is in love with you."  
  
"Oh, my God," said Finch in a strangled voice.  
  
The room spun as Elliott repeated his statement to Maya and the other baffled employees. Too shocked to think of anything to say in reply, Finch leaned on the edge of the nearest desk for support. His brain almost failed to register what was happening. For once, he didn't have a witty comeback or insult to stack the cards in his favor again. He was too busy reeling from what had been irreversibly done to him to even find his voice.  
  
He was powerless.  
  
As if from miles away, he heard one of his co-workers laugh. "Wait, wait. *Finch*? Finch loves *Maya*!?" A chorus of laughter erupted around him, and another voice joined in. "Oh, come on! He *does* know his chances are like, one in eighty-five billion, right?" More laughter. "Jeez, Finch, you need to start dating women at your own level. I bet there's a nice girl in backwoods Kentucky who's just waiting for you." The laughter wouldn't stop.  
  
Suddenly, through the endless ridicule, Finch heard Maya's voice. Maya's voice was saying things that... that weren't very nice. "Shut up! Shut up, all of you! Get a life already and stop insulting people to make you feel big, you bunch of freaks!"  
  
Surprised, he looked up and saw Maya glaring furiously at everyone; especially Elliott. "What the hell is wrong with you, Elliott?" she demanded, her fists planted on her hips. "Are you that selfish and inconsiderate that you would humiliate one of your best friends in public? And the rest of you!" She spun on the others like an angry cat. "Just what is so damn funny about the idea of Dennis Finch being in love with me? Do you think he's not good enough for me? Is that it?"  
  
That was certainly what Finch had always thought. So why was she defending him?  
  
Her eyes brimming with unshed tears, Maya turned to him and took his hand in one of hers, covering it with the other. "He's better than all of you, I can tell you that much," she said, addressing the group while looking at him. "He's kind and sensitive and thoughtful, and he would never do to any of you what you just did to him." She swallowed. "And that's why I love him."  
  
A collective gasp resounded through the office. Elliott took an involuntary step back, and the most profound silence filled the room. His heart beating wildly, Finch looked down at Maya's hands, then up into her face. Her expressive brown eyes could never lie, and in them he saw the truth of what she had said. "I love you, Dennis," she repeated softly.  
  
Those four words could never have meant as much as they did to him if they had been spoken by anyone else. His limbs feeling like lead, he raised his free hand and brushed his fingers against her cheek. "I love you, too."  
  
Heedless of the people staring incredulously at them, Finch held his hand to the back of Maya's head and pulled her gently forward until her lips met his. There was nothing particularly fiery or passionate about their kiss, but it held an immeasurable degree of tenderness in it. He felt her dainty fingertips caress the back of his hand, and as they both pulled away, she smiled the most loving smile he had ever seen.  
  
"Ahem." His eyes wide, Finch recognized the voice behind him and slowly turned to face its source. Jack Gallo stood in the doorway of his office. "Dennis. Maya. My office. Now."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A/N: So there it is. There you have it. The big confrontation between Finch and Elliott had to come sometime. I feel I could have written it better than I did, but maybe I just don't put enough faith in my abilities as a writer. Most authors are probably the same way. So was the wait worth it? I hope so. I wanted to make this chapter "The Big One", if you will, and with any luck I succeeded. But I also wanted to really make Nina shine. She's severely underrated in some fanfictions, and that kind of upsets me. She's just as much a part of the show as the others, and she deserves some credit. The phone call from Hannah, too, wasn't really space-filler. Sometimes I forget that Maya has a little sister, and being a kid sister myself, I know what's involved with all that. And plus I really wish they'd have her on the show someday.  
  
So anyway, write your reviews before you leave, and I'll be grateful. Oh, and I apologize for the cliffhanger. That was unworthy of me.  
  
-Wakizashi  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	13. Monday, 1:35 PM

A/N: Chapter thirteen, my goodness! I never thought this story would get this long. But I have you all to thank! Even though I wouldn't have stopped writing even if no one reviewed it, it's nice to have support. Anyway, I'm glad everyone liked the last chapter. It was Jamie's favorite one! *looks all proud* Oh, and I didn't mean that you hurt my ego in any way. I just meant that all your compliments made my ego so big I thought I'd float away. People say I'm self-righteous anyway, so I try not to get too puffed up... or too offended if I get flamed. But enough about me! How are Finch and Maya going to handle a furious Jack?  
  
Disclaimer: As much fun as it would be to pretend otherwise(until I got sued), I don't own 'Just Shoot Me'. Or Blush. I don't work there. Heck, I'm not even an intern.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Ciao  
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction  
by Wakizashi  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Monday, 1:35 P.M.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Those five words scared the bejesus out of Maya. But even more frightening to her was the total absence of emotion on her father's face. Just meeting those expressionless eyes made her take an instinctive step toward Finch, as though to seek protection in his nearness. Somehow he must have sensed that she needed his proximity, because he took her by the elbow and slowly drew her closer to him. As his hand slipped into hers, he boldly returned Jack's unnerving stare with something not far from defiance.  
  
*He sure has guts,* she thought, her grip tightening on his.  
  
"Are you two deaf?" Jack suddenly demanded, startling her. "Get in here, now."  
  
Turning his back on them, he walked stiffly back into his office, leaving Maya to look at Finch uncertainly. "This isn't how I had planned on telling him," she said miserably.  
  
"Don't worry," he replied, pushing her hair gently behind her ear. "Everything's gonna be fine. If he doesn't accept it now - which is pretty obvious - he will eventually." He turned to their co-workers, who were still staring at the scene like a bunch of spectators watching the main attraction at a freak show with morbid fascination. "What are you looking at? Beat it!"  
  
The crowd dispersed, leaving a shocked Elliott with a pair of unsteady feet and a blank expression. Ignoring him, Finch tugged on Maya's hand, and they slowly crossed the bull pen to her father's office. He entered first, pulling her insistently along with her, evidently to make sure she wouldn't run, which was something she was seriously considering. Jack sat in the leather chair behind his desk, looking more predatory than a famished tiger.  
  
As Finch closed the door behind them, Maya took one of the chairs in front of the desk, swallowing hard. "Dad," she said after taking a deep breath, "before you even start, I just want to make my case, because what you're probably thinking is completely different from how it actually is."  
  
Watching Finch as he sat in the chair next to Maya's, Jack leaned forward on his desk. "You each get two minutes," he stated bluntly.  
  
"Each?" asked Finch. Maya swatted him on the leg, and he fell silent.  
  
"I want you to know," she began, meeting her father's impassive gaze, "that even though neither of us has done anything wrong, if you're going to place blame, it might as well be on me. Dennis never tried to seduce me, or get close to me, or ever told me that he was in love with me. In fact, I only found out late Saturday night."  
  
"Uh, Maya, I never told you until today," Finch whispered.  
  
She patted his arm. "I know, baby, you talk in your sleep." His blue eyes grew wide, but she continued. "But over the past few days; actually longer than that, now that I think about it; I really began to appreciate what a great friend he's always been. Okay, he's pulled a few practical jokes now and then, but whenever I needed him, he was always there. And lately, I've realized how *much* I need him. I really love him."  
  
Finch reached out to her hand, which rested in her lap, and covered it with his own.  
  
"So hate me forever if you want to, but you can't be mad at Dennis. When I tried to convince him that we could date behind your back, you know what he said? 'If I ever hurt you, it would kill Jack. And that would kill me, too.' He loves you like a father, and the last thing he would want to do is disappoint you. You know that." She drew in a shaky breath. "Okay. I'm done."  
  
For a while Jack was silent. If the idea wasn't so ridiculous, Maya could have sworn that she could hear the clock ticking in the next room. Then he turned his stare on Finch. "And what do you have to say?" he asked, tenting his fingers.  
  
The blonde stared back at him, surprisingly showing no fear or shame, only a strange tranquility as his hand remained on Maya's. "Your daughter makes a good case," he finally said. "But even though I could try to add to it, I'm not going to defend myself. Just ask your questions, Jack, and I'll answer with the complete truth."  
  
"All right, if that's what you want." Jack rose from his chair and stood by the window, seemingly looking out at the city below. But Maya knew where his attention was. "How long have you been in love with my daughter?" he asked, speaking to the window, but addressing Finch.  
  
"About four years," he replied. Maya raised her eyebrows in surprise.  
  
Jack, however, showed no sign that he was shocked. "But how long have you had feelings for her?"  
  
"Since the first time I saw her."  
  
Something tightened in Maya's chest. To think that Finch had cared about her for so long, but was too devoted to her father to act on his feelings. What might have happened if she had known? Would she never have dated Elliott? Would they be married, with a house full of children and cats? The thought was unbelievably humbling.  
  
Her father merely nodded, as if he had guessed it all along. "So you were in love with her when you were married to Adrienne," he remarked; more of a statement than a question.  
  
"Yes," said Finch.  
  
"Now, I'm curious," Jack continued, as if he was actually confused. "You loved Maya, and yet you married Adrienne. Why was this?"  
  
It was amazing how little Finch had to think before he had an answer. "I knew I didn't have a chance with Maya. Getting married to Adrienne seemed like I was just settling, but I didn't want to be alone forever."  
  
Maya felt tears pricking her eyes, and she had to turn away from him.  
  
Jack was not affected by his confession. "So. About last weekend. You never told Maya you loved her?"  
  
"No."  
  
"And you never slept with her?"  
  
Embarrassed, Maya glared at her father, but Finch merely said, "No."  
  
"How often do you think about it?"  
  
"Every ten seconds."  
  
"Dennis!" She shoved his arm, and he just shrugged. Shooting a look of annoyance at Jack, she crossed her arms. "That question was not relevant," she said angrily.  
  
Jack inclined his head. "Fair enough," he replied, at last turning away from the window. Abruptly, Maya felt a sudden rush of resentment toward him. Just because he was her father, they had to answer to him if they were to be together, and God help them if he didn't approve. Somehow, the whole situation seemed warped and unjust.  
  
As her anger continued to brew, Jack circled his desk until he stopped directly in front of Finch. "And now, the most important question: why?"  
  
Finally, a break in Finch's calmness. "Why?" he repeated, blinking in confusion. "Why what?"  
  
"Why everything!" Jack threw up his hands exasperatedly, as though Finch was a disobedient child that just wouldn't learn. "Why *didn't* you just decide to go behind my back, no matter how I felt? Why didn't you ignore your conscience like you usually do? Why does it matter to you what I think?"  
  
Finch looked genuinely wounded. Maya's anger at her father grew and grew, until she felt like she would burst. "Don't you already know?" he asked softly, staring up at Jack. "Because I can't disappoint you."  
  
Silence reigned eternal in the cool office. Jack didn't need any further explanation, and Finch didn't need to give it. Maya kept silent as well, because she knew if she said anything, it would be a string of curses and insults at her insensitive father. So no one said a word.  
  
Just when it seemed that white noise had replaced the English language, Jack shook his head. "Dennis, there's no need for you to keep this act going." Finch frowned, puzzled, but he paid him no heed. "All this hokey about you being too afraid to offend me just doesn't add up. You put yourself first and you always have. I know this is all just an excuse to keep me from firing you."  
  
"Oh, knock it off already!" Maya suddenly shouted, exploding from her chair. "This is all your fault!"  
  
Finch stared at her in surprise, and Jack raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Yeah, that's right! Dennis wouldn't be so terrified of disappointing you if you weren't so insanely overprotective of me!" she said heatedly, her hands fisted at her sides. "You think that whoever I date has to pass your Jack Gallo Screen Test of Approval, and if I decide to date them anyway, you have to do everything in your power to end it! You *know* that Dennis is the best choice I could possibly make, and you *know* that together, we could both be happier than we ever thought we could be! But just because we didn't come to you right away, you've got to stop us, and stop us now!"  
  
She fell silent, breathing heavily. She wondered where she had gotten the courage to defy her father like that, but it was too late to take it back. Looking him straight in the eye, she said in a low voice, "I don't care how badly bruised your stupid ego is. I love Dennis, and nothing you do to us is going to change that."  
  
Another long stretch of silence passed. Daughter challenged father, while boyfriend just sat awkwardly. Then, without a word, Jack picked up his coat and walked out of the office.  
  
Letting out the breath she had been holding, Maya collapsed in her chair. Finch immediately shot up from his, babbling like a madman. "Oh my God, that was amazing, Maya! Never in a million years could I stand up to Jack like that! I mean, there was that time with the lox and the capers, but I was like, really mad and I hadn't gotten any sleep! But you! My God!" Kneeling in front of her, he took her hand and kissed it. "I am so proud of you."  
  
She smiled weakly, reaching out and stroking his soft blonde hair. "Thanks," she said, sighing. "But I can't believe I just completely freaked out. Normally it takes an awful lot to make me lose my temper, but the way he was talking to you..." She had to blink rapidly to clear her vision. "I couldn't take any more of it."  
  
Slowly closing his eyes, Finch rested his head in her lap, his hand still loosely gripping hers. "By the way," he murmured softly, "thanks for sticking up for me out there."  
  
"Any time," she replied, moving her fingers from his hair to the side of his face. For a while they both sat in an easy silence, finally able to enjoy a moment of peace together. Conversation wasn't necessary; the company of one another was enough. Eventually, however, Maya had to break the calm. "Dennis?" she asked.  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
She bit her lip. "When do you think... that everything will be like it was again?"  
  
Finch opened his eyes and sat up straight, looking up at her sympathetically. Releasing her hand, he held out his arms to her. "Come here." As she left her chair and fell forward into his arms, reminding her of the miserable night in that motel room that seemed like years ago, he squeezed her tightly. "Your dad can't stay mad forever, Maya," he assured her, rubbing her back soothingly. "Sooner or later he'll have to accept that we're serious. Meanwhile, we've got Nina at out backs, and Elliott..." He hesitated. "Well, he'll come around eventually."  
  
Maya sighed. "But what if he doesn't? What if no one does?"  
  
He drew back a little and kissed her forehead lightly. "Then you'll still have me," he whispered, gazing into her eyes as he brushed her hair away from her face. "You'll always have me."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Taking a deep, shuddery breath, Maya lifted her hand and knocked on the heavy wooden door. The sound reverberated through the hall, and for the moment there was no answer. She tried again, pounding until she thought her knuckles would bruise. This time the brass handle turned, and the door swung slowly inward.  
  
Jack looked at his daughter blankly through the gap in the door. "I have nothing to say to you," he informed her.  
  
*Of course,* she thought dismally. "You mean, besides that?" she asked, rolling her eyes.  
  
He blinked at her for a moment. "Yes," he said finally.  
  
"Dad, will you just open the door already?" Maya blurted, stomping her foot impatiently on the plush carpet of the hallway runner. "We have to talk about this. You can't avoid me forever, you know. I work for you!"  
  
"Not anymore, you're fired. Now goodnight," he replied instantly, closing the door in her face. Growling angrily, she hammered on the wood with her fists, adding a hard kick from her high-heeled shoe for good measure. The door opened again, and Jack seized her by the arm. "Okay, fine, get in here! You don't have to make a scene!" he said exasperatedly, dragging her into his condo. "For God's sake, Maya, the tenant down the hall has a weak heart!"  
  
As her father shut the door behind her, Maya crossed the living room and sat down resolutely on the sofa. Jack recognized her refusal to move until all was resolved, and he sighed in annoyance. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asked, throwing up his hands.  
  
She crossed her arms and frowned. "I have no idea what you're implying," she announced, sounding a bit stubborn to her own ears, but not really caring. Her opinion was that, if anything, she should be asking him precisely the same question.  
  
"Oh, don't you give me that," he grumbled, waving a finger at her like she was eight years old again. "You sound too much like Eve when you start up with that 'feigned ignorance' crap. I never understood that."  
  
"The whole purpose is to force you to elaborate on your statement so that, if possible, it can be used against you," she clarified, raising an eyebrow jokingly. He snorted, and she patted the sofa cushion beside her. "Now will you please sit down?"  
  
Scrunching up his nose in irritation, he sat down on the far end of the couch. "All right, so I'm sitting now," he said, gesturing dramatically. "We're here. We're talking. What do you want?"  
  
"I want..." Hesitant, she looked down at her lap. "I want to apologize for losing my temper at the office today. I was angry, but I shouldn't have raised my voice - well, *yelled* - at you. I'm sorry."  
  
Jack nodded slowly. "You are forgiven. For yelling at me," he added quickly.  
  
"Its just that," she continued, knowing that she would lose her nerve if she didn't keep talking, "you were so cruel to Dennis, Dad. I don't really know what happened, but it just made me explode. Say what you will about me, because I probably deserve it, but he doesn't."  
  
"Maya, no." She looked up, confused, to see him shaking his head. "Honey, you know I love Dennis like a son. But I know him. I've known him for over ten years, and he's always been self-centered and sneaky. It's just the way he is, Maya, and don't think that he'll be any different now that you're together, because whatever your mother told you, you can't change men. It's a sad fact, but it's true."  
  
Halfway through his speech, all of Maya's protests and defences flew straight out of her head. Jack wasn't lying, or even exaggerating the truth; throughout their long history as co-workers, Finch sometimes displayed a shocking degree of selfishness and cunning. When he had assumed that he had recieved a mediocre gift for Christmas, he had responded by replacing everyone else's presents with items that were sure to offend. He was a crafty one, that she knew.  
  
But she also knew that ever since that horrendous incident with Allie, Finch had never once let Jack down. She knew that he would sooner have an arm amputated than disappoint him. And she knew that hurting her would definitely disappoint him.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she finally spoke. "Dad, I know you're trying to protect me, and I appreciate it. But you're not the only one that knows Dennis. I won't deny that he's egocentric; I would probably be the *last* person to deny it. But when it comes to the important stuff, he's always there. Can you say the same about Elliott, or Nina?"  
  
Jack made no reply, but she knew what his answer would be. "Dennis said that he would never hurt me," she said quietly. "And I, for one, believe him. What do you think would happen if he did? You would be furious, right? And he would kill himself before he would ever make you furious." Reaching out slowly, she laid a hand on his arm. "You mean the world to him, Dad."  
  
He heaved a sigh, patting her hand lightly. "I know that, Maya. I'm not saying he's a bad kid--"  
  
"Then why are you so upset?" she asked impatiently, interrupting his sentence.  
  
Hesitating as if he knew what to say, but didn't want to say it, Jack's shoulders sagged as he answered her. "I- I guess I'm upset because I don't have any control over what you do anymore."  
  
Maya blinked at her father, completely baffled. *Loss of parental control?* she thought in consternation. *That's what all this is about?* "But Dad," she protested, "you're my boss. You have total control over everything I do!"  
  
"No no, that's not what I mean." Jack looked down at her hand, which was still resting on his arm. "This whole thing with you and Dennis took me by surprise. Yeah, I'm your boss, and I could have the both of you terminated if I wanted to. Just like that. But that wouldn't change the fact that you two are together, and there's nothing I can do about it."  
  
As he finally raised his head to look at Maya, her lip began to tremble. A sudden urge to embrace him overwhelmed her, and she leaned against him, burying her face in his shirtfront. His arms folded around her, and she sniffed. "Dad... Just because I'm not a little girl anymore, that doesn't mean I don't care what you think. I *do* care. I can't stand that you're mad at me about all this." She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt them well up with tears. "But I really love him, Dad."  
  
"I know you do, pumpkin." His hand stroked her hair. "I know."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A/N: My goodness, that was a long one. And extremely hard to write. Especially Finch's interrogation from Jack. Now that I think about it, this was probably the hardest chapter to write out of all of them. I really wanted Jack and Maya to have a heart-to-heart over the whole situation, and I'm sorry I didn't include Finch. I felt it should have been strictly a family thing. Gyahh, thank God it's over and done with! But don't worry, it wasn't the last chapter. Obviously I wouldn't leave you with a pseudo-ending with pretty much nothing resolved. I couldn't do that to all my buddies! But anyway, leave a review and tell me what you thought, while I get to work on the last (yes, you heard me right) chapter. Ciao for now!  
  
Wakizashi  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


	14. Thursday, 9:58 AM

A/N: I'm SO sorry it took an eternity to post this chapter, I really am. But oh man. You have no idea how hard it was for me to write this. I already had this chapter done and then my computer crashed, and I lost EVERYTHING, which meant I had to write it again. Then it got a virus, and this time I saved it on a disc before we had to reboot it, but apparently it was in the wrong format, so I lost it. I was SO cheesed off, because I had already written it twice, that I guess I got disillusioned, because I put it off for a long time. But I'm over it now, so here I am again. Writing it for the third time. No no, I've learned to deal with it; so must you. So I'd like to thank, and apologize to, all of my loyal readers. *whips out a long paper scroll* Here's a few, in no particular order:  
  
Concetta  
  
Jamie, of Jamie and Jessie Enterprises  
  
April  
  
Starship Gazer  
  
TasChiBandGirl  
  
HMC  
  
Cloudburst2000  
  
eechan (my sissy Fu)  
  
Yvette  
  
Ryan  
  
Hijah  
  
Mika aka Digiberry  
  
And I'm sure there's many, many more, but for the moment I can't remember, and I sincerely apologize. My story would be nothing if it weren't for all of you. Your fabulous reviews encouraged me to keep writing, and even your criticisms made me want to improve. Not only did I grow as a writer, but I gained some friends. It's win-win! So again, thank you. And now, I leave you with the last installment of my story. All good things must come to an end.  
  
Disclaimer: Oh, come on, everyone already knows I don't own 'Just Shoot Me'! How many times do I have to go through with this? *walks away grumbling* Rub it in my face, why don't you...  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Ciao  
  
a 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction  
  
by Wakizashi  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Thursday, 9:58 A.M.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"It's almost ten o'clock," announced Jack Gallo irritably, checking his Rolex watch that was a gift from his long-time rival, Donald Trump. "Where in the blue blazes is that Nina?"  
  
Dennis Finch looked up briefly from his desk, where he was busily working the crossword puzzle in the New York Times as he waited for the meeting to start. He wasn't concerned about the ex-model's tardiness in the least; he knew she was probably somewhere with a hangover, trying to remember all the unspeakable acts she had participated in the night before - or, more likely, had been the cause of.  
  
"I wouldn't worry about her," he said casually as he moved on to Fifteen Across. "I'd say she's down at Bartini's right now, ordering a prairie oyster for her 'headache'." He mimed quotations into the air with his fingers as he spoke.  
  
Jack drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk, clearly showing his impatience and muddling Finch's concentration in the process. "Well, if she doesn't show her skinny butt in this office soon, we're going to have to start the meeting without her."  
  
"Oh, you know we can't do that," Finch replied, tapping his pen against his chin thoughtfully. "She's in charge of the piece about getting active-wear at reasonable prices or something - 'Spring into Fashion' or something, I wasn't really listening - and as much as it pains me to admit it, she's quite the authority on the subject. We need her expertise. Why are you in such a hurry, anyway?" Suddenly he shot Jack a suspicious look. "Hey, don't you have a golf game with Ralph Lauren at noon?"  
  
At this Jack stuck out his chin. "No, it's at eleven-thirty," he said, tapping his watch impatiently. "And if I'm late, he'll bring up that ridiculous idea of his for a four-page polo shirt ad in our next issue. Talk about narcissism!"  
  
Finch shrugged distractedly. "Aw, come on, old people like polo shirts." Looking up quickly, he noticed the Ralph Lauren logo on his boss's own dark blue polo and realized his mistake. "Or so I've heard," he added, receiving a venomous look from Jack. "So, uh, what's an eight-letter word for a sled-dog?"  
  
This question apparently succeeded in diverting Jack's attention. He thought for a moment, then threw up his hands. "Sled-mutt?" he suggested feebly.  
  
"A valiant attempt," his assistant said, suppressing a snicker. "But somehow, I don't think that's it."  
  
"Try 'malamute'." Finch turned to see Maya strolling up to his desk. After writing down her suggestion - which, of course, was correct - he grinned like a kid as she came to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist. "What's going on?" she asked.  
  
"Your high-strung father is anxiously awaiting the arrival of our strung-out fashion editor," he replied before giving her a quick peck on the cheek.  
  
"What? Nina's not here?" Maya frowned. "That's too bad. I was hoping we'd get to say goodbye to her before we left."  
  
"Oh, that's right," said Elliott DiMauro as he came strolling up. "You two are going on that biking trip through France. I would have thought you'd have already left by now."  
  
Finch checked his watch. "I'd have to agree with you there," he said, blowing air out through his nostrils. "You know how long it takes to get through the LaGuardia airport. But the big boss insisted we stay for the staff meeting, so here we are."  
  
"And trust me, you won't regret it," Jack told him. "Because as soon as Nina gets here--"  
  
"Wait no further, everyone, I have arrived!" announced Nina Van Horn as she breezed off the elevator and into the office, carrying a gold gift bag along with her purse. As usual, she wore no visible signs of the drinking she had done the night before. "And you'll never *believe* what happened to me last night!"  
  
"Hmm, neither will the jury," Finch remarked with a smirk.  
  
Nina waved a thin, manicured finger at him. "Sorry, Finch," she replied with an easy smile as she placed the bag on his desk. "But your snide little comments aren't going to work on me today."  
  
"Oh, really?" he said, glancing at Maya in amusement. "And why's that?"  
  
"Because today is a very special day," she proclaimed matter-of-factly. "It's the only day out of the whole year that you're excused for your behavior." Leaning abruptly across the desk, Nina grinned and planted a kiss on Finch's cheek. "Happy birthday, Dennis!" she exclaimed.  
  
*Uuuhhhh,* was Finch's first thought. How was he going to break it to her that she had gotten the dates mixed up without hurting her feelings? "Nina," he said slowly, placing his hand over hers. "I appreciate the thought, but today's... not my birthday."  
  
"What? It's not?" Her dark eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Well then, why was today marked on my calendar?"  
  
Finch looked at Maya, who was biting her lip nervously. Elliott was busily fumbling with the camera around his neck, and Jack simply stared down at his Italian shoes. No one seemed to want to be the one to tell her.  
  
Suddenly Nina snorted with laughter, slamming her hand on the desk. "Oh God, if only you could see your faces!" she cried, barely able to talk. Everyone waited, anxious for an explanation, as she composed herself. "I was only kidding," she said. "Of course I know what today is!" Going around to the other side of the desk, she hugged Finch tightly, then Maya. "Happy anniversary, you two!"  
  
*She never ceases to amaze me,* thought Finch. He grinned and shook his head. "Thanks, Nina."  
  
"Yes, thank you, Nina," said Maya.  
  
"No no, don't thank me until you've seen your present," she told them, pushing the gift bag toward them.  
  
Finch and Maya looked at each other with wide eyes. They both knew Nina wasn't exactly an expert at giving gifts to people. At their wedding reception, they were surprised - and baffled - to receive her gift to them: a life-sized mannequin to hang Maya's bridal gown on. Their cat, unfortunately, sometimes liked to use it as a scratching post. *Guess it's the thought that counts,* he thought wryly.  
  
"Wow, um, Nina," his wife said with an uncertain smile. "You really didn't have to get us anyth--"  
  
The ex-model held up a silencing hand. "Now, don't be ridiculous. You two have already been married for a whole year; though God knows it seems like just yesterday."  
  
"Yeah, I can still see Finch being chased by those swans during my best man's speech," said Elliott, grinning.  
  
Finch's eye began to twitch. "I specifically asked that there would be no swans," he muttered.  
  
"I know, honey," said Maya, patting his hair.  
  
"At any rate," Nina continued, annoyed at being interrupted, "you guys are two of my best friends, and what kind of a maid of honor would *I* be if I didn't get you anything for your anniversary?"  
  
Finch had to smile. He knew there was no use arguing about it.  
  
"Go ahead, open it," she urged.  
  
Maya dutifully reached her hand inside the gold bag. What she pulled out surprised both of them - in a good way. It was a beautiful silver-framed photo album, with finely detailed grape vines forming an etched border around it. "Oh, wow, it's gorgeous, Nina," Maya breathed.  
  
"That is a really nice photo album," agreed Elliott.  
  
"Nina," said Jack, clearly surprised. "I am impressed. That kind of gift really shows class."  
  
"I'm glad you think so much of me, Jack," she replied, glaring at him. "Anyway, you'd better take lots of pictures in France, because that's why I got it for you. We'll want to see them when you get back."  
  
"Yes, when you get back," repeated Jack, rubbing his hands together impatiently. "Which reminds me, we need to get this meeting started before the kids take off. And before I tee off," he added. "So sit down, everyone, so we can get this over with."  
  
General murmurs of assent issued among them, and they all drifted to the long work table and sat down. Before Finch took his seat, however, he gave Nina one last hug. "Thanks again, Neen," he said softly.  
  
"Don't mention it," she replied with a smile.  
  
"Okay, old business," began Jack as Finch flopped down in his chair. "Nina, how's your piece coming on spring fashions?"  
  
In response, the fashion editor pulled a red portfolio out of her voluminous purse and passed it across the table to Jack. "That's not the final draft, of course," she said as he thumbed through it. "But most of the pictures are in there, as you can see. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised," she remarked, smiling smugly.  
  
"This is great, Nina," he answered. "You've really outdone yourself." He handed the folder to Maya, who passed it to a beaming Nina. "Just have the finished copy on my desk before the deadline."  
  
Finch watched as Maya gave the ex-model a "good job" pat on the shoulder, and he smiled. It didn't make a difference who it was; Maya was always there to let them know they were appreciated. As he stared across the table at her, marveling at how beautiful she looked even in her backpacking gear, she caught his gaze and grinned at him. He grinned back, gradually tuning out what was being said around him. He tended to do that when he was with his wife.  
  
And what a wife she was. He had had no idea how happy he could truly be until he married her. When he wanted a friend to hang out with, Maya was always there to play video games with him or go roller-blading in the park. When he wanted a lover... God, he didn't even have to ask. But most of the time, all he wanted was to be with her, either snuggling on the couch or lying beside her in bed, or even sitting here at this table.  
  
And she was there. She was always there. It just made him feel so--  
  
"Dennis," said Jack suddenly in a very stern voice, "that's not my daughter's leg you're stroking with your foot, that's *mine*."  
  
"Oh," he blurted, his face burning. He quickly yanked his foot away while the entire table - including his wife - burst out laughing. *Whoops,* he thought, trying to sink down as far in his chair as possible.  
  
At that moment the phone rang, and Finch grabbed at the opportunity to change the subject. He picked up the handset and held it to his ear, ignoring the smirks that were directed his way. "'Blush' magazine, company whipping boy speaking," he said in a monotone.  
  
"Dennis!!" blared a loud, boisterous voice in his ear. Everyone at the table blinked at the unexpected outburst, for it was audible to all of them.  
  
Finch winced and held the phone at a safer distance. "Hey, Dad," he answered half-heartedly.  
  
"Dennis, Dennis, Dennis," Red Finch said. "Dennis, my boy, happy anniversary! I can't believe it's already been a year. Boy, the time sure goes, doesn't it? Hey, reminds me of that TV movie I saw--"  
  
"Uh, Dad," Finch interrupted quickly. "That's uh... cool that you called. How have you been doing? How are Buck and Scotty?"  
  
"They're fine, we're all doing fine," his father replied. "But that reminds me. We're planning another fishing trip this summer; about a month after you and Maya get back from France. It'd sure be great if you could come."  
  
All the air left Finch's lungs. Maya immediately noticed the change in him, because she frowned with concern. 'Are you okay?' she mouthed. He nodded rapidly, trying to compose himself.  
  
"Dennis?" said Red. "Dennis, you still there?"  
  
He cleared his throat before speaking. "Yeah, I'm here," he answered, trying his best to sound normal. "Dad, you... you're asking me along on your fishing trip? You guys have never invited me before."  
  
"Really? Are you sure?" His father paused, as if deep in thought. "I could have sworn we have.... Well, maybe not. But anyway, you have to come this year. Maybe you could bring your little wifey along, too. Does Maya like fishing?"  
  
Finch had to swallow a lump in his throat. "Yeah," he said in a tight voice. "Maya loves fishing."  
  
"Ah, good. That's good. Your mother never liked fishing. But Maya's a great kid, really sweet. I knew from the moment I met her, she was the one for you. Not like that Elliott guy. He isn't still coming on to you, is he? Some people just don't take a hint, you know?"  
  
"Dad," Finch said wearily, "for the last time, Elliott's not gay."  
  
At hearing this, Elliott choked on his coffee, and Nina howled with laughter. "Hey, is that Nina I hear?" his father asked. "Boy, she's a real kick in the teeth, isn't she? How's she doing?"  
  
"She's fine, everybody's doing fine," he replied, rubbing his eyes. "Look, Dad, I hate to cut this conversation short, but Maya and I have to be at the airport in about fifteen minutes ago, and we're still in the middle of a staff meeting."  
  
"Oh, all right, then I won't keep you. You kids have fun, and send me a postcard."  
  
"Will do, Dad. And thanks for calling." Finch hung up the phone and looked at all the expectant faces around him. "Continue," he said with a wave of his hand, before resting his head on the table.  
  
"Yes, well," Jack resumed, clasping his hands together in front of him. "As Dennis was just telling Red, he and Maya are very eager to be on their way. Which brings me to our new business: Dennis, Maya, you're not going to the airport today."  
  
Finch's head shot back up. "Wait, what?" he said, not believing what he had heard.  
  
"Dad, what are you talking about?" Maya asked, frowning.  
  
"I'm saying, you can forget about flying coach, surrounded by screaming babies and whiny tourists," Jack replied. "If you two are going to Provence, you *have* to fly there in style."  
  
Elliott's jaw dropped. "Wait, you're not saying..."  
  
"That's right, you'll be flying in the company's private Lear jet." Jack smiled and booped Maya on the nose. "And that's my anniversary gift to you, pumpkin."  
  
"Aw, come on," said Finch, still overcoming his initial shock. "I told you not to call me that in public."  
  
His boss hit him jokingly on the arm. "Very funny, wise guy."  
  
Grinning ecstatically, Maya rose from her chair and gave her father a huge embrace. "Thank you so much, Dad!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Yeah, thanks a lot," said Finch, smiling. "This is really great of you."  
  
"Think nothing of it," answered Jack, waving his hand magnanimously. "Things like this are easy when you're rich. Now, unless someone has something to add, this meeting is over. I do have a tee time to keep, after all."  
  
As one, they all rose from the table, and Elliott and Nina hugged the couple goodbye before returning to their work. While Maya retrieved the rest of her hiking gear from her office, Finch pulled his own bags out from underneath his desk. Elliott promised to drop by their apartment to feed their cat, so they had nothing to worry about there. Their bicycles were locked up securely in the parking garage, but now they didn't have to worry about checking them at the airport. *Private jet, private jet!* he kept shouting in his mind.  
  
After a while Maya returned with the remainder of her gear. "Ready to go, Mrs. Finch?" he asked her, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
She returned his smile as he pulled her close to him, placing his hands on her hips. "Almost, but I forgot to do one thing," she replied.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
Leaning even closer, she covered his mouth with hers and kissed him slowly. *Ohhh, that never gets old,* he thought, his eyelids drifting shut as he tugged her impatiently closer. She ran her fingers through his shaggy blonde hair, and he was about to move his lips down to her neck when a most unwelcome voice interrupted.  
  
"Dennis, can I see you in my office?"  
  
Suppressing a groan, Finch pulled reluctantly away from Maya. "Crap, what did I do now?" he muttered.  
  
His wife merely looked at him in amusement as she shouldered her gear. "I'll just meet you downstairs, baby, okay?"  
  
"Yeah, okay. Hey," he said, grabbing her hand as she turned to leave. "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too," she replied, smiling sweetly. "Ciao!"  
  
"Hey, don't you be stealing my catchphrases now!" Finch grinned and waited until the elevator doors closed behind her before he shuffled into Jack's office. Closing the door behind him, he found his boss standing in the middle of the room, forsaking the customized leather chair behind his desk. "You wanted to see me?" Finch asked.  
  
"Yeah, I did. Have a seat," Jack said, gesturing toward the couch. Finch did as he was told and waited. There was a brief silence, then Jack spoke again. "You know, when you and Maya first started dating, I didn't think it would last very long. And then when you proposed to her, I didn't really take it all that seriously. Even after the wedding, I figured something would happen, and you two would split up."  
  
Another silence followed, and Finch tried to sift through Jack's words to find a compliment within them, without success. Finally he prompted, "But...?"  
  
"But," Jack continued, spreading his hands in defeat, "you proved me wrong, Dennis. Over the past year, you've treated my daughter better than I could have ever hoped *anyone* to. You and Maya are truly happy together." He sat down next to Finch, who was stunned into motionlessness. "I guess I just didn't want to admit it to myself."  
  
Finch had to wet his lips before he was able to speak, and even then, it was in a weak voice. "Why?" he asked.  
  
Jack gave a little shrug. "I... really don't know," he replied. "Maybe it was because I wanted to protect Maya. But also, deep down, I wanted to protect you, too. You were like a son to me, and if it didn't work out, I would have hated to see you hurt."  
  
At this Finch couldn't speak at all. Jack had just told him, straight out, what he had wanted to hear for over a decade. Jack really cared about him. Jack thought of him as a son. Finch opened his mouth, but no words came out.  
  
"Anyway," said Jack, patting him on the back, "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry I doubted you."  
  
Finch smiled, blinking back tears. "Thanks, Dad," he said softly.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A/N: Oh my God, it's over. I finally finished it. ...And now I'm really sad!! *sniff* Hold it together... Hold it together...  
  
Ahem. I'm better now. And despite my regret that the story is over and done with, and that it took so long, I am infinitely glad I wrote it. I think I like this chapter the best. And did you notice, Finch didn't call Jack "Jack" once in this whole chapter? Yeah, that was deliberate. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this story, because I sure as heck enjoyed writing it. In fact, I'd put it on my own 'Favorites' list if it wasn't being totally conceited. But instead, I think I might write another 'Just Shoot Me' fanfiction. Nothing this long, but maybe just a cute one-shot or something. If Vicki's lucky, maybe I'll put her in it.  
  
But before I go, I'd like to *again* thank everyone who reviewed, and I also want to thank the people behind 'Just Shoot Me'. After all, this story wouldn't exist if the show didn't. And above all else, I must thank David Spade, the man behind Dennis Q. Finch. Honestly speaking, I probably wouldn't even watch the show if he wasn't on it. Oh, and I can't leave without plugging his new movie, "Dickie Roberts: Former Child Star". WATCH IT!! In fact, WATCH IT TWICE!!  
  
Ciao for now,  
  
Wakizashi  
  
tricksparrow@hotmail.com 


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